


Dealing in Absolutes

by Theskee



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Demon forms, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Love Confessions, M/M, Manipulation, Mind Control, Non Sex-Repulsed Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Power Dynamics, Secret Relationship, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, canon typical cannibalism, cross dressing, deal making, kind of, like... so much cross dressing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:34:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 89,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27871610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theskee/pseuds/Theskee
Summary: Angel's deal with Valentino is vile, and inescapable. Alastor's offer to trade up for something better is tempting, but everything has a cost. Better the devil you know when it comes to eternity, right?A Co-Authored Piece about Alastor and Angel navigating power and redemption.
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Charlie Magne/Vaggie, Lilith Magne/Lucifer Magne, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Valentino/Vox (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 87
Kudos: 194





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there, one last warning for you before you dive into this fic, there are several references to sexual assault, though nothing is ever depicted in graphic detail.

The tepid puddles outside Happy (Hazbin) Hotel reflected smudged mascara as Angel was unceremoniously shoved from the back of Val's limo and into the street. His palms and knees scuffed against the pavement and he splashed into the musty mix of street runoff and days old blood. He stared down at himself, still surrounded by a cloud of smoke that wafted from the open limo door. He could feel Val's eyes on him, burning holes through him from behind his shades. 

"Pack your things, Angelcakes. I'll send the car for you tomorrow night. You've been spendin' too much time at this shithole… and time is money. Right?" 

"Right… Of course, Daddy."

Angel watched that murky reflection twist as he hid grit teeth and tearful eyes from Val. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing it. He'd given Val enough tonight. He'd begged and pleaded and apologized and he could taste the acrid sin on his tongue still. Cigar smoke and spunk and pricey champagne. He reeked of his desperate apology. 

He'd be twice damned before he let himself cry in front of Val again. 

He pushed himself off the pavement and dusted himself off. It was a fruitless effort but it helped him compartmentalize the evening. He smoothed his hair back into place and his second set of hands straightened his clothes. 

"Good."

Val's limo peeled out and Angel, dripping and disheveled, took a deep breath and tried to hide his limp as he strode back into the hotel. He puffed out his chest and held his head high. The likelihood of running into someone this early in the morning was unlikely, but not impossible. He took a glance around and found the lobby empty. 

_Thank fuck…_

He made a beeline for the bar, rummaging around behind it until he found a bottle of cheap booze. It was better than nothing. He leaned against the bar and stared at the bottle, secondary elbows propped along the counter top while he fiddled with the bottle for a moment. He uncorked the top and drank. 

And drank. 

_And drank._

Until the bottle was half gone. It wasn't the buzz he really wanted but it would numb some of the pain in his limbs and the thoughts swirling around his head. He could still feel Val all over him. One eye was throbbing and there were cuts on his cheek from too many rings. He felt used and stretched out all over. A shower would be smart, but Angel wasn't ready to face his naked body just yet. 

A few minutes passed and that booze hit his empty stomach and soaked into his bloodstream. It was like getting hit with a Mack Truck of intoxication. He giggled to himself, but there were tears streaming down his cheeks. He rubbed the heel of his hand under each eye and laughed at himself a little more. 

"Everything you ever wanted, huh?" 

What a load of shit that had been. 

Careful what you wish for. 

He took another swig and slouched harder against the bar and wondered how he could have ever been so naive to think that he'd ever really get what he wanted. 

“Is it really now?” a voice asked.

Yes, the night had been quiet but the fanfare that early morning brought was deliciously -- no, _utterly_ magnetic. It was when the best of bad choices were made and inhibitions were in short supply. The hotel might have been quiet, yes, but it didn’t mean the shadows weren’t capable of offering their own kind of convivialities to whatever creature found themselves awake at this hour. 

And the voice-- well, _he_ was certainly among those kinds of creatures, the early ones-- or the ones that never slept. Besides being a creature of the utmost curiosity, he was also the hotel’s primary benefactor.

It meant that he knew everything.

Coming, going, staying-- _existing_ . If it happened within the walls of Hazbin, he _knew_.

Alastor knew intimately, actually.

Alastor moved gracefully towards the inner workings of the bar from nearly out of nowhere. A smile, perfectly poised and uninterested graced his face from ear to ear and he moved behind the bar with his own agenda.

Liquor.

Even Alastor had a soft spot for it.

Every strand of fur on Angel's body stood on end as his drunken stupor was unceremoniously interrupted by Alastor stepping from the shadows, appearing from the nothing darkness around them. The way he moved through the world unsettled Angel. Angel had managed through sheer dumb (drug induced) luck to avoid Alastor his entire unlife in hell, until now. Still, unlike everyone else around him, something about Alastor reminded him of a time long left behind. Alastor reminded him of his human life. The crackle of his voice didn't make Angel as uneasy as it made everyone else. If he closed his eyes and listened he could see himself in a smoke filled room, with dust on a mirror, listening to late night radio shows… 

Sure, he was terrifying in other ways, but honestly…

Who wasn't? 

Val was far more terrifying. 

Angel had the bruises to prove it. 

What he didn’t have right then, was an answer to Alastor’s question. It had been rhetorical, but now, Angel was overthinking the statement as he watched Alastor make himself at home in the bar. His sleeves were rolled up, hiked up to forearms and revealing the curious way his fingertips bled from bright red into black and then into the strange lavender beige hue his skin was. Alastor was far more interested in getting himself another drink than hearing about what Angel had to say-- well, it at least appeared that way.

The sazerac he began making for himself was far more telling than Angel could ever begin to imagine. Their friendship, if one could even call it that, was far from allowing one another to glean too much information. Ignorance, in Angel’s case, was certainly bliss to Alastor.

“Did you know that you can mix this with other libations rather than drinking it directly from the bottle?” The crackle and tune of a radio was laced within his words as he finished stirring and sipped briefly before setting his own drink back onto the bartop. Still, Alastor’s smile never faltered, but he did snatch the bottle from in front of the spider. 

Angel let the bottle go without hesitation and watched. Alastor seemed far too at home where he was. Sure of himself and his movements. Such mundane tasks didn't seem right when Alastor performed them. Angel made no move to give Alastor room as he worked. After all, Alastor had stepped into Angel's space and if he was going to do so, he could soak in the scum coating Angel's fur and deal with it. 

“I hear it works better.” The octave in which Alastor’s voice sank was unpleasantly _clear_.

Yes, get Angel even more liquored up, _then_ take advantage.

“Now, since I’m playing the role of _gracious bartender_ , why don’t you answer my question?” Alastor asked, making himself busy with a drink for the bereft spider and putting on a marvelous display of aloofness. Normally, he would have bothered Husk to make drinks for someone other than himself, but… something was to be _gained_ here.

“What is it _really_ that you ever wanted?”

Angel mulled that question over as he dug a pack of cigarettes, half crushed, from his torn jacket. 

"What does anyone want, baby? To live life with no limits and enjoy every second they can. I was shit at it when I was alive, still shit at it now, I guess," Angel's words slurred together as he spoke and lit his smoke, taking a long drag. He stared at the cherry and then looked at Alastor, eyes flashing in the dim light as the cherry brightened with another drag. Through a cloud of smoke his teeth glinted, gold catching the light through the haze. He was smirking, but it didn't reach his eyes. Angel was exhausted. 

"I wanna be me… Whoever the fuck that is. Ya get me?" 

Talking so frankly with Alastor wouldn't have happened if Angel were not so damn drunk. He wasn't Angel Dust the porn star right then, he was Anthony. All pretense and persons had been stripped away and his sore, sorry state of being was laid bare. What could Alastor do that hadn't already been done? Kill him a second time? Oh well. Good riddance. An ending was just that. An end. Blackness and nothing seemed preferable to continuing this cycle of abuse. His highs were high but his lows? 

Well… 

He gave the hotel lobby a cursory glance. 

This was low. 

"Why d'you care, huh? That committed to the gig? I get playin' a part, baby, trust me, but… doesn't seem like your style, unless there's somethin' in it for you. You hopin' t'get me to open up, maybe feel indebted to you? You don't gotta play coy, my offer's still in the table, all you gotta do is ask."

Angel leaned closer, paying no mind to the dirty and disheveled state of himself. This came as easy as breathing and sex was transactional. That he understood. It was all that had come of being able to own his sexuality. Transactions. 

"Whaddaya say, Al?" Angel smoothed two hands over Alastor's shoulders while the other two pressed against his waist. Rejection was a likely outcome, but honestly? That would be refreshing after the night he had.

“ _No!_ Oho-- _no!_ **No** , I don’t need _any_ of that, now,” he transmitted cheerfully, shooing, backpedaling and removing himself from Angel’s grasp. He didn’t like being touched. So much so, that it was what needed to be addressed before anything else-- even with leverage on the table, as Angel suggested. Alastor smoothed his palms down the front of his chest and gave himself a moment to collect himself. Interactions that showed his hand rubbed him in absolutely the wrong way. Still, he finished preparing the other’s drink and simply _ignored_ Angel. Well, he ignored and smiled, unflinching and ominous.

Whether Angel knew it or not, any further infractions would be met with a murderous kind of scrutiny. The few sazeracs Alastor had imbibed in had certainly bought Angel the first and only consideration of the early morning. Where it would go from here, well, that was entirely up to Angel.

“Now that you know the rules, let’s get back to the matter at hand, shall we?” Alastor replied, putting a proper drink into one of Angel’s hands. It was one less that he could touch him with.

“You know that I can offer you the life you believe you deserve.”

“That is, if you want it,” which sounded far too delectable from the mouth of the deal making deer demon. He grinned over his drink, took a sip and put it back on the bartop.

“But you’re something of a wise head, aren’t you?” he asked, shoving away from his perch and crowding Angel’s space. There was hair involved and a simple gesture of running his fingertips through it. Angel flinched slightly as ruby fingertips grazed his scalp. For a demon who didn't like being touched, Alastor didn't seem to have as much trouble giving touch. A gentle nudge to Angel’s chin, a coy display in the swivel of his own shoulders. Angel was still tender, like a raw nerve to the touch and Alastor was so damn gentle that in his drunken stupor, Angel melted just a little. Not enough to be a puddle at Alastor's feet, but close. Alastor was casting a line.

The bait had to be delicious enough for Angel to take even the smallest of bites. 

Angel sipped the drink Alastor had prepared and listened. He was a good listener, despite what his reputation might lead you to believe. Every John had their own problems and pillow talk had its very own important place in his work. He soaked every word in and it painted a rather interesting picture in his mind. 

“As favorable as you are to Valentino’s ensemble of entertainment, he and I share a common interest,” Alastor divulged.

“ _Vox_.”

Alastor let that confession simmer and took a sip of his drink, reclining carefully and looking out towards the hall, away from Angel.

“I would ask if you knew what it meant for a Television and Radio Demon to have issue with one another, but I’m afraid you actually might not know given the state you’re in,” he said, turning his smiling attention back towards Angel.

“But, I don’t believe you’re at the point where you don’t know what I’m getting at.”

 _So Alastor has beef with Vox_ , Angel thought, _Not surprising_. And Alastor wanted to make a deal… Angel processed slowly, but when it had all sunk in, he sputtered a laugh into his glass. It took guts to try and snatch him away from Val. To try and find an in toward his own end goals. Angel, at the very least, appreciated the honesty. His glazed eyes raked over Alastor. He was better looking than most around here, and a smooth talker, but it'd take more than a pretty face making prettier promises to get him to hop out of the frying pan and into the fryer. 

"You got some serious balls, baby. You think what, you offer me _the same thing Val did_ and… Then I'll be workin' for you?" 

Angel set his drink down and crowded Alastor in turn. His arms bracketed all around the other demon, careful not to touch as he fixed him with a sultry, drunken sneer. 

"I'm already behind the eight ball here, baby. I may be a lot of things… A whore. A drug addict. A sinner… But you know what I ain't? A schmuck."

A third set of arms snaked out and Angel elongated, giving him further height. He loomed, thin and angular, his damp clothes fitting tighter as his eyes darkened. He was drunk and rambling far too much, but even though he was wasted, he knew one thing for certain. He didn't trust Alastor. He could see the gears of an internal monologue turning in the Radio Demon’s eyes:

 _My--!_ Behold how the spider caged him-- how he _grew_ and _shrank--_ **_fantastic_ ** _!_

_Sir_ , you must simply watch out! Clutch your pearls, ladies, at such a sight to behold! The newspapers are surely going to have tomorrow’s headline with this one!

Alastor watched and smiled patronizingly, waiting for the other to be _done_. 

Angel _really_ didn’t know who he was. 

"I've been down here a long time… I ain't stupid. One pimp kickin' my ass is enough for me. I won't be _your_ whore, too," Angel drove his point home and withdrew, shrinking in on himself. He snatched his glass up from the bar, threw his head back,and polished it off. The resounding thunk of the empty glass hitting the bartop was as close to a mic drop as Angel would get.

"Thanks for the drink."

Angel hopped over the bar with ease and settled onto a stool, looking toward the door as the first glimmers of daytime light began to filter through the glass. He had mere hours to recover, and yet here he was, feeling lower than before. He'd be hungover still when Val sent for him. At least a good old fashioned gangbang wouldn't leave him with the same kind of self loathing an evening with Val did. 

“Oh, _what?!_ No!” he laughed heartily, despite them being very carefully produced transatlantic _‘ha’s.’_ “I don’t need you in my _employ_! I’m simply looking to make the insufferable tube demon’s life more of a living hell than it already is!” Which would happen by proxy due to Angel’s current employer’s potential future discomfort. Alastor didn’t lose his chipper tone as he explained up to the looming spider.

He knew Angel wouldn’t bite tonight, not in this state at the very least. Angel was beyond listening or reason, even if he did back down.

“But if you insist on wallowing in your own misery, you may continue to have it your way,” he replied with hidden delight, letting the other release himself from their conversation and escape to a stool. Alastor snatched his own glass up from the bartop and began traipsing away. Cat and mouse wasn’t always his method of choice, but it did release him from boredom, _historically_. He stretched as he walked, pressing his shoulder blades together languidly.

Well, released from boredom for a _while_ , at the very least.

In the meantime, seeds could be sown and left watered to grow. Alastor knew what manipulation looked, sounded, and even tasted like. He wasn’t above administering it to their brief conversation, even if Charlie had a stake in Angel’s rehabilitation.

“Should you decide to change your mind anytime soon,” Alastor offered tantalisingly, turning on his heel and placing a hand into his trouser pocket. He grinned and glanced down his nose with a calmer grin towards the messy white and pink lump slumped against the bar. Too much teeth might scare the boy off again and Alastor didn’t feel like entertaining _another_ scene.

“The offer will _always_ be on the table, _mezanmi_ ,” he admitted with a clipped chirp of radio static and despite the distance between them, the words sounded like they came from a much closer proximity, as if being spoken directly into Angel’s ear. The suggestive little bit of Creole lacked the hum and crackle of Alastor’s usual tenor, smoother, deeper, and far more alluring than it had any right to be.

Angel held his breath as Alastor began walking away. He watched him with narrowed eyes, catching a glimpse of something… Fluffy? His eyes widened briefly and then immediately he was pulled from his own thoughts by a voice against his ear. It was soft and clear. It left him feeling on edge. The whole interaction was irksome. Just who the hell did this radio demon think he was? Hot and cold. Angel had dealt with enough of that for eternity. 

After the last syllable hit Angel’s brain, Alastor was gone, retiring to the space inside the hotel that he found himself more comfortable in. Somewhere dark, somewhere dank, and somewhere far removed from prying eyes.

Angel sulked a while longer and then retired to his room where Fat Nuggets and a shower were waiting to make him feel a little less broken. With the curtains drawn and a fresh shower he curled up in bed to sleep it off. Once his eyes shut he didn't open them again until six that evening.


	2. Chapter 2

Angel went through the motions of getting dressed, a slinky black number and a feather trimmed coat. Makeup to hide the bruises. A suitcase for the overnight. It was all there. He tucked Fat Nuggets under his arm and pulled his luggage along behind him as he made his way back to the lobby. Voices carried from the bar where Charlie and Vaggie were having a heated discussion about something (stupid probably) and Husk was pouring drinks. Nifty flitted about, dusting and cleaning as she went, leaving things cleaner with every pass. This place was starting to look halfway presentable. 

Angel shoved right past the girls at the bar and set Fat Nuggets on top, putting on his sweetest smile as he and Husk made eye contact. 

"Hey, daddy. Can you do me one teeeeeeny weeny favor?" 

Husk looked like he was going to object. He looked from the pig, to Angel, and back again. 

"No."

Angel pouted and leaned across the bar. 

"C'mon… Please? It's just one night. I don't want him to get too lonely."

"No. After the mess that damn thing made last time--" 

" _ Per favore! Papi! Ho bisogno di te. Sei l'unico di cui mi posso fidare-- _ " 

Husk threw up a hand at Angel's whining, stopping him in his tracks. That vague Brooklyn Italian accent was grating enough to Husk without actually having to hear him ramble in Italian. 

" _ Sta' zitto.  _ Stop whining. I'll watch your fucking pig."

Husker poured himself a drink and eyed Fat Nuggets warily as the small demon flopped down on the bar top. 

"Thanks daddy, I'll owe you one big time. I promise I'm good for it," Angel purred. Husk, however, had shifted his gaze elsewhere. Angel noticed a hush fall over the girl's, too. Angel didn't like the energy that had suddenly arisen in the lobby. There were very few who could possibly be responsible for it. Either Angel's ride was here, or Alastor had just appeared.

Silence blanketed the lobby.

Shadows became darker, bleeding out from their crevices and purchasing a little more space for themselves to marinate in. The lights hummed unusually, and even a faint electrical surge emitted from the fixtures as their glow became warmer.

Alastor’s aura, no matter how hushed it may have been, infected everything it touched.

Even the air felt crisp and clear, like a properly tuned radio.

He strolled into the foyer gracefully, neatly done up and blanketed in the particular shade of red he seemed to have an affinity for. Alastor wasn’t parading around in his usual overcoat, something shorter but fitted, flared mildly from the small of his back, and exquisitely cut.

“What a pleasant surprise! Everyone’s here,” he exclaimed with chipper static. “Cohorts and clientele alike,” the observation wasn’t particularly keen, but the way he looked over the inhabitants was. In the low light of the evening, his focus was easy to keep track of. When his attention shifted, so did the direction of the dull glow his irises emitted.

“A _ -ha! _ Look, someone new!” Alastor chirped, turning his head abruptly towards the small pig on the bartop. The little tilt of his head towards the pig was unsettling, as well as the way his smile grew when he stepped closer.

“And who might you be?” he asked, beginning to loom dangerously as he closed in.

Alastor had thought he’d smelled bacon, but he’d never seen proof of it until now.

“Breakfast?” low enough in his register that it only made it into the piglet’s ears. It was a threat. Behave-- or  _ else _ . Alastor tapped the tiny snout and was suddenly awash with friendliness as he turned away from the very unsettled and very  _ miniature meal _ . His attention shifted towards Angel, who was perched atop the bar comfortably but was well within range to hear the one sided interaction.

“Is that little darling yours?” he asked, looking over Angel’s face with tempered scrutiny. It was apparent he was in a better state than Alastor found him in the night before. However, there was the manner of Angel’s dress, his suitcase, a miniature hellpig on the bartop, and an irritated Husk leaning against the counter to address.

Alastor was quickly piecing this together.

Alastor's looming and his sharp gaze made Angel clench his teeth. Fat Nuggets was the one thing in this god forsaken hellscape he really gave a shit about and Alastor's creepy  _ everything  _ was far too close for comfort to his companion. He snatched up Fat Nuggets and held him close, eyeing Alastor warily. 

"Yeah. He is. Don't touch him. Husk is takin' care of him for me," Angel leaned into Husker, hanging on him and planting a kiss on his cheek. "Isn't that right, daddy?" 

"Get off me, twink."

"Make me."

Angel winked and passed Fat Nuggets into Husk's capable arms. He straightened his feathered collar and looked down at Alastor, a self assured smirk curled at his lips. His gaze turned affectionate as he turned his eyes back to his pig. 

"Fat Nuggets, you be good while momma's gone, okay schnookums?" 

The returned squeak was barely audible and Fat Nuggets was already snuffling for a snack in Husk's fur. Angel sighed and slid off the bar, glancing around one last time. Charlie stepped in front of him, his vision suddenly dragged downward into a sea of blonde. 

"Angel… Please be good, okay?" 

"Don't worry princess."

"It's just… Last time you went out--" 

Charlie was sharply interrupted by a knock at the hotel door. Angel's sly smile fell and his face drew into a schooled level of blankness. He already knew what was waiting for him outside. He was as ready as he'd ever be to face it. 

"That's my ride…"

Something that resembled thoughtfulness or understanding snuck in and made a home behind Alastor’s grin as he watched Charlie shovel her concern onto Angel. The entire picture became clear once hesitation and something that sounded like emptiness in Angel’s tone resonated in his ears. The narrowed eyes paired with a tight smile meant that Alastor was discerning his next move, one meant for chess and not some trivial game-- no, he was already anticipating the end of it already.

“What simpleton knocks on a hotel door?” which meant that he wasn’t going to wait for Angel to answer it. It mattered little that it was intended for the other when his desire for intervention sated his boredom like it did.  _ Oh no. _ Angel felt creeping dread as Alastor made his way to the door. 

“Good even--!” he chirped in the open doorway.

Was no one there?

“ _ \--ing _ ,” Alastor finished, looking down at the squat demon. “... who are  _ you? _ ” He asked without missing a smiling and chipper beat.

“Here for Angel Dust, Val’s waitin’ in the car.”

“ _ Hmm. _ ”

The static in his voice reached his eyes and Alastor’s keen gaze shifted towards the limousine. The silence swelled and the short purple demon standing on the doormat began to show signs of impatience.

“He ain’t got all fuckin’ day, y’know.”

“He’s going to need a lot more time than that!” if Valentino intended on waiting for Angel, that was. “Angel hasn’t even properly checked out yet!”

“C’mon, man. Stop bustin’ my ball--” and suddenly, there was a purple smear on the doormat. Angel was locked in place, eyes wide as he watched.  _ Oh fuck no…  _ Alastor waved politely towards the car and shut the door, turning around with a pleased smile. The message that Alastor sent would have been received loud and clear to Valentino. For all intents and purposes, this was his house now, as caretaker, and no one was going to waltz in and make demands-- save for Charlie.

“Husker, my boy, I believe a drink is in order! A sazerac, please-- make it two!” he said, snapping his fingers suddenly. Angel would find his luggage back in his room. “I believe our dear Angel Dust’s evening has suddenly freed itself up!” Alastor gingerly took a seat and propped his elbows up on the bar.

The cavalier way Alastor simply disregarded Val put Angel in a bad spot. This was a slight that would be taken out of  _ his  _ hide. He could feel it already, his legs shaking slightly as he watched Alastor stride back to the bar for drinks. 

He turned on his heel, staring daggers into Alastor's back, but the fear he felt was so palpable it permeated the air around him. Maybe… Maybe he could fix this and beg Val's forgiveness. But first and foremost… 

"Are you out of your fucking mind?!" 

“I don’t think so!” Alastor interjected with a plucky chirp. 

Angel closed the distance between where he stood and the demon at the bar. He snatched a handful of Alastor's coat at the shoulder and forced eye contact. Any fear he may have held for Alastor was blown away by the fear he had for Val. Val was a known quantity. His punishments were violent and vulgar. They made Angel ache with shame and physical pain. Pain that could only be numbed by something this damn hotel forbade him to have. Static warbled and popped once Angel’s hand fell onto Alastor’s shoulder and turned him around. 

Alastor’s delight didn’t falter, but there was a new kind of tension settling in around his eyes. Without missing a beat he plucked Angel’s hand off of his shoulder and held it gently in both of his own, patting the top of it patronizingly.

_ There, there. _

_ No need for theatrics. _

This only added insult to Angel’s injury.

"Are you that pissed off that I turned you down? You wanna get me fucking destroyed?!" 

The crack in Angel’s voice told a very specific kind of story. One of constant, repeated abuse. He ran his free fingers through his hair and looked to the door. Val wasn't a patient demon. He'd bust through that door if he had to and drag Angel out by his hair. It had happened before it would again. 

“Do I look upset to you?” Alastor asked, beaming up at Angel from where he sat. “Whether or not you accept my offer is entirely up to you, my effeminate friend. I  _ do  _ question how sound of mind you are, however.” Why Angel would want to continue his arrangement with Valentino was beyond Alastor’s comprehension. He heard it in his voice. Saw it in the way Angel was set on edge. The cycle of abuse was plain to see. Still, it remained his choice and Alastor wasn’t a stranger to denial. He made deals, after all. He was bound to be turned down sometimes.

However, this display was a bit personal. Irritating Valentino was a delightful way to pass the time if it meant it might trickle down to Vox. It worked in his favor, anyways. Alastor knew what it might have looked like to someone like Charlie on the outside-- that he was merely standing up for one of their patrons.

Alastor let go of Angel’s hand and snatched both drinks from on top of the bar. He stood, circled around Angel and slung his arm around his shoulders. Alastor placed the other drink into one of Angel’s freed hands and held him a little tighter.

_ Relax _ .

“Now, if your chaperone truly desires your company that much, he can come in here and claim you himself,” he explained, squeezing his fingers around the crest of Angel’s shoulder. “He can  _ try _ .” The radio chatter fell away for a turgid moment, his deep tenor settling in eerily.

If Valentino knew that Alastor was present, which he certainly now was judging by the smear on the doorstep and the jovial wave from the doorway earlier-- he wouldn’t attempt it. This was Alastor’s domain. Feuds between Overlords would be done in slights and inconveniences, never outright war-- not initially, at least.

“But look at you! All dressed up with nowhere to go!” Alastor chimed, guiding Angel towards a stool with his usual enthusiasm. “I believe this calls for music-- libations all around! Have a seat Angel, my dear, and I’ll whip up a riveting game of bridge!”

The whirlwind of emotions that swept through Angel left him feeling sick to his stomach. Alastor was greatly underestimating Val's propensity for violence and possessiveness. This may have been Alastor and Charlie's turf, but Angel was his  _ property.  _ That meant trouble for all of them, but Angel most of all. There was little comfort in hearing Alastor say Val was welcome to try. He dropped onto a stool, tense and defeated. 

"B… Bridge? What are you, my granny?" Angel's words lacked any real bite. Fat Nuggets trotted across. The bartop to nudge him with his snout. Angel found a tiny bit of comfort in petting the tiny pig. It was short lived. As Husk set a drink in front of him, Angel barely had time to lift it before his phone rang. Tension rippled through him as he pulled it from the folds of his coat and looked down. Sure enough… Valentino's contact photo stared back at him. He swallowed audibly and lifted the phone to his ear as he hit the answer button. 

"H-Hi, daddy…"

Fat Nuggets oinked in protest as the low crackle of Velntino's voice filtered through the ear piece. 

" _ That was some little stunt… Your new pal is wasting my time, and you know how I feel about that. But I'm feeling generous today… You come out right now, and I won't break your legs. Not that you need them to lie back and do your job." _

Angel shot Alastor a heated glare. It was either he stepped out now, or he could never leave this damn hotel again. In that moment, a silent question was being asked. How far would Alastor go to fuck with Vox, and how much protection did that really offer Angel? Vaggie's words echoed in his head, and while she wasn't the trusting sort, Angel had been naive once. He could stand to learn a thing or two from her.  _ He's a dealmaker. Pure evil.  _

"Y… Yes Yes, daddy. I'm sorry. It's all just a big ol'... Misunderstanding. I promise I'll be right out I just gotta--" 

" _ Still wasting my time. No excuses. Get out here. Now. _ "

Val was abiding by the rules of engagement for overlords. He hadn't physically encroached. He was just playing a card he had. Drawing Angel out was good enough. 

_ Ah, mobile telephones! What a testament to modern technology. A marvel, really! To always be accessible? What a concept!  _ Alastor thought as he closed in on Angel throughout the conversation. One swift movement was all it took to snatch the device from Angel’s trembling fingers.

“Valentino!” he exclaimed over the microphone of Angel’s freshly plucked phone. “How long has it been?” Alastor’s voice crackled over the line. He hung on Angel’s shoulders while he spoke, leaning heavily on the spider’s frame.

“A decade? Two? My, how time flies! Anyways, I’m incredibly sorry for the inconvenience, but I wanted to inform you that Angel won’t be joining you tonight.”

Angel startled as suddenly he was no longer holding his phone. Alastor--  _ fuck.  _ He couldn't help the noise of whining protest as he reached for it but his fingers shrank back hearing just what the radio demon had to say. Alastor was determined to make this difficult for him. Val was going to find a way to kill him  _ again.  _ And it wouldn't be pretty. 

“Now, before you protest, my dear purveyor of pronographic content, I’ll have you know that it’s simply protocol! Redemption requires paperwork and paperwork requires time, which I’m sure you understand,” he explained jovially.

“You know what it’s like to run a  _ reputable business _ , don’t you?”

Angel sucked down his drink and his face dropped into his hands as he tried to decide how he was going to handle this. Charlie's gentle hand on his shoulder was no comfort. He didn't shrug her off but rather, sank further against the bar. 

" _ Al. There's nothing reputable about snatching up my bottom bitch… there ain't no tits on the radio, after all. _ "

A thick laugh filtered through the speaker that sent a chill down Angel's spine. 

" _ Fuck your paperwork. Send my bitch out or TV is really gonna kill the radio star. _ "

_ How entertaining!  _ Valentino’s moxie breathed a strange kind of life into Alastor-- and a threat, too? What a glorious amount of fun they were having! Alastor beamed, abandoning Angel’s side to pace casually around the lobby with his mobile telephone in one hand and a drink in the other. He laughed into the receiver in response to Valentino’s attempt at intimidation. The static warped the sound into a wheeze, cavalier and dark.

“I see you haven’t changed a bit!” he replied gleefully, a laugh track played on cue and Alastor paused in the middle of the room. “And I’ll have you know--  _ I haven’t either,”  _ he suggested menacingly, the crackle and usual camp in his voice nonexistent.

“ _ If  _ you insist on collecting your property,” Alastor began, the air swelling and becoming heavy around him and filling up the lobby with the dank smell of death and electricity. The bottles behind the bar rattled and the lights hummed. A bulb popped and the sound of it echoed ominously down the hallway. An inky darkness hung around Alastor and thick tendrils of smoke began to whip around him and bleed into the receiver.

“You may do so after a nice, long  _ drive _ ,” he said smoothly, his shoulders raising with tension as he drew from a well of boundless power. Valentino and his limousine would find itself situated in a far flung corner of hell, as far away as Alastor’s abilities allowed. 

“Perhaps you can ponder over treating your things with more consideration!” and the smile was detectable in every word as he slid back into his usually pleasant disposition.

“Have a nice trip!” he said before hanging up the phone. He turned back towards Husk, Angel, and Charlie, less rigid and menacing but a crosshatch was still fading from between his eyebrows.

“I’m starved!” he exclaimed, “Who’s hungry for dinner?”

Angel strode across the lobby with purpose after Alastor's display and snatched back his phone. Fear had taken over his face, he looked sick and he was trembling, eyes wide. Charlie turned and tried to go after him, calling his name, only to have Vaggie snatch her by the hand and hold her back. Alastor's menace had left an impact on everyone save for Husk, who just tried to console Fat Nuggets who was now hiding in the nest of liquor bottles under the bar. 

Angel's finger tightened on his phone as he stared Alastor down. He stood at his full height, spine straightened by fear as he tried his best to hold himself together. Whatever Alastor had done to Val wasn't going to be Alastor's problem. It would be his. If this was the radio demon's fucked up way of helping, Angel didn't want it. He'd tried to make that clear but it seemed Alastor's lack of respect would be Angel's undoing. He shook his head, his eyes damp with frustration and terror. 

"Alastor… Stop helping."

Angel's voice was strained and barely containing the well of emotions. He looked down at his phone and considered what kind of damage control he could do. Whatever happened it would have to be at a quiet corner of the hotel, far away from Alastor. Val wasn't the forgiving type and the money Angel made him was the only thing he had at his advantage. If he wasn't doing that he was fucked. 

"If your goal is to upset Val and Vox, I ain’t gonna be how you do it. Because I made a  _ deal  _ with Val."

Charlie pulled away from Vaggie and rushed to Angel's side, taking on of his hands in hers. The whole ordeal seemed to have shaken the princess to her core. 

"Angel, you have a choice. You're here for redemption… This… I believe this is part of it and Alastor is just trying to keep you from straying from the path. We can protect you." 

She was trying to sound comforting but every word made Angel feel sicker. He yanked his hand away and laughed, cold, self deprecating, and low. 

"He doesn't give two shits about my redemption. Open your eyes princess. I'm just  _ entertainment. _ "

He took a few steps back and shook his head. Charlie reached for him one more time and he grit his teeth, flinching away from her touch. 

"Don't talk about yourself like that. You're capable of redemption. I know it."

Her feelings had been hurt. What a hilarious turn of events this was. Angel took a deep, steadying breath. 

"I'll… I'll be in my room."

"What about dinner? You shouldn't skip meals!" Charlie made one last attempt at getting Angel to relax and trust in everything here, but it was not going to happen. Not tonight. Not like this. 

"Whatever," Angel sighed, turning and wandering down the hall, swallowed up by the dark. 

_Angel should have listened to the girl! She was making_ __s_ ense!  _ Alastor thought as he watched Angel carefully, a discerning gaze beaming up towards the visibly upset spider. The reasoning behind his motivations were still clutched to his chest but it didn’t mean they didn’t run rampant in his mind. Alastor wasn’t going to plead or make excuses, instead favoring silence in order to watch it all unfold.

At least he had Charlie on his side, which felt like a boon to his argument that he was helping with Angel’s redemption. A farce, but no one needed to know that!

“How about etouffee?” he thought aloud to himself, glancing back to Charlie— who was still standing there dejectedly. “I know a recipe that’s a real crowd pleaser!”

Alastor relieved himself of his drink and set the empty and fractured glass onto the bar top. Web like fractures adorned it’s walls. A prize no doubt for being in such close proximity to Alastor from before.

“Charlie, why don’t you be a doll and help me in the kitchen?” he suggested, beginning to roll his shoulders out of his coat off.

Soon after their foray into the kitchen, a savory and spicy aroma wafted through the air. Not only that, but the sound of Alastor singing and humming accompanied it. Everything was theater, even in the kitchen. Alastor was eventually pleased with his toiling, even if Charlie’s help was more of a detriment than a boon.

The night carried on far more calmly once dinner was served. However, Charlie didn’t miss a beat in turning her concern on Alastor, doing her best to get him to feel some small semblance of guilt over Angel’s current mood. _Heavy_ _handed_ were the words she used and they were the only ones that really needed to stick. She strong armed him into a minutiae of remorse, too small to address, but it would eventually be a match to tinder in Alastor’s mind.

Maybe a kind gesture and an apology would go a long way. It was the polite thing to do, after all. Being in Angel’s good graces again might have gotten him what he wanted in the long run anyways. Maybe Charlie actually did have a point!

He cleared his throat outside of Angel Dust’s door with a finely done up tray of food. How queer was it that the radio demon was outside his room like this. Room service.

He knocked politely.

“Angel? Are you in there?” he called, his smile unwavering. “Charlie simply insisted on you having your own meal, so I brought you one.”

While everyone else had been occupied, Angel spun a web for Valentino via texts. He was a captive. Alastor was trying to keep him locked away. He needed rescuing. It was a pretty picture he painted and Val may not have bought it entirely, but agreed not to take it out of his hide if he was able to make some scratch from the hotel. That was doable. He was sure Val was still mad, and that there were unseen consequences for this entire evening that would come to light soon enough. 

But Angel couldn't focus on those. He had to make money. So, camming it was. He set up, changed into proper attire, lingerie, some darker eye shadow, and laid out an array of toys on his bed. It wasn't as lucrative as what had initially been planned for the evening but it'd do in a pinch, and on the plus side he wasn't going to wind up with any fresh bruises tonight. 

He was well into putting on his show, legs spread, grinding into his mattress for his viewers, moaning phrases for cash with himself stretched around a toy of the audience's choosing when he was interrupted. Albeit politely, it was still an interruption. He was tempted to ignore Alastor, or tell him to fuck off. But a vindictive streak coursed through him and he decided there was an option here that was too good to pass up. 

"Door's open. Come in," he called, not stopping in the slightest. He put on his best seductive smile, listening to the chat ding with new messages at the notion of company. They'd be disappointed, but he'd already made a good amount of cash, and even if some decided to dip out, it was further proof of Alastor breathing down his neck for Val. Win win. 

There was also the possibility that Alastor would hurt him, but he'd have to touch him (and he was as in the buff as could be) to do so.

“Oh,  _ good!  _ I couldn’t say that I disagreed with Charlie’s insistence. Dinner was simply  _ marv—!!” _

A grin— smile, a smirk, no matter their intensity, they never dropped from Alastor’s face. Even in this questionable predicament something small still hung on his lips, but something else was entirely  _ off _ . It wasn’t the little bit of shock and tension that hung around his squinting eyes, or how he stared silently at the scene before him.

“... _ velous.” _

No, what was different about Alastor was when the realization of what was happening in Angel's room hit him— his ears flattened, back along his head. Completely and utterly off guard. The rarest of occasions in Alastor’s case.

“You’re busy!” he said hastily with his ears gaining back their usual height. He was contemplating leaving immediately or lobotomizing himself in order to forget this entire interaction.

Embarrassment wasn’t really what this was. It was pure unfettered shock and discomfort. Sex wasn’t something Alastor was uncomfortable with— it just had it’s own place and time and he definitely felt a certain type of way about it.

Perfect. Angel was far too pleased with that reaction and he'd be lying if he said having Alastor discover him like this and to show such shock wasn't kind of doing it for him. He was surprised that Alastor didn't immediately exit the situation, but Angel was quick to take advantage. He glanced at his comments and was amused at all the encouragement he was getting to try and rile the radio demon who had walked in unsuspectingly. Val was watching too, possibly Vox… embarrassing Alastor would play in his favor that way, too. 

"Not too busy for you, daddy," Angel moaned. He was hamming it up just a bit, but the whole thing was pointless if he didn't sell it. He clutched the sheets and squirmed, making very pointed eye contact. "Why don't you set that down and come over here… gimme me some of that  _ star power _ of yours. The folks want a good show."

He arched his back and moaned long, lascivious, finishing it off with a wink. Alastor was getting an eyeful and his viewers were eating it up. Not bad. Not bad at all. 

"You're a fan of entertainment, right? Let me  _ entertain  _ you."

What complicated Alastor’s response was the vast sea of eyes watching. He didn’t quite get the appeal of this kind of media, or much of anything else that came after his arrival in hell— but this, this was incredibly personal and intimacy was something Alastor  _ occasionally _ struggled with. Still, he had his reputation to uphold.

“ _ Hmm _ ,” he pondered, casting a squint back in Angel’s direction. Alastor was quickly formulating his next step, well, other than the few it took to deposit the tray of food onto Angel’s vanity. Even in this painfully awkward situation, he’d fall back and rely on his well rehearsed charisma to buy his exit and save face.

“I can personally attest that there isn’t a chance located  _ anywhere _ in hell where that would ever happen!” Alastor replied with a hushed audience giggling trailing behind it.

He moved towards the door, attempting to appear unphased, but there was a tail that indicated something entirely different. It was alert, the fur was fluffed and standing on end. Fuller than normal. Alastor shut the door behind himself and began down the hallway.

“Oh, Nifty!” he called, waiting for the little darling to come within earshot. “If Angel ever asks you to clean anything in his room, a word of advice.”

“ _ Don’t _ ,” and he patted her head as he passed her by. There _ , normal _ interaction. That was better! Perhaps Husk would be the distraction he’d need for the rest of the night. They  _ did _ mention poker over dinner earlier.

Angel was sufficiently satisfied that he’d ruffled Alastor’s fur when he saw his tail retreating from the room. He played up the rejection for sympathy cash and finished out his show for the night. Most of what he made he wired to Valentino. It was no small fee, a couple grand, so not a bad night over all. He was one of the only sex entertainers in hell, and Angel (as well as his wallet) liked it that way. After he wrapped up, he cleaned himself up and went down to retrieve Fat Nuggets from the capable hands of Husk. He could see the poker game underway, but decided to let his actions sink in, and favored ignoring Alastor’s existence entirely as he picked up his pig and stowed himself away for the evening. 

In fact, he left Alastor well enough alone for a few days, moving around him, talking over him in conversation, and continuing with the pattern of pretending he simply didn’t exist at all. He carried on like this for almost an entire before he was faced with the reality that he’d have to actually have a serious conversation with Alastor. 

Valentino texted him. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning, this chapter contains allusions to sexual exploitation and non-consensual sex acts, please proceed with caution.
> 
> Thank you to those of you who have commented and left kudos so far! We appreciate the support. This story *is* completed, and I'm going to try and get out more regular updates once the holidays are over and I have more free time to edit and post things! 
> 
> Enjoy this hefty chapter and happy holidays!

He couldn’t stay holed up here forever, and he couldn’t have Alastor stepping all over his exit again. Gaining forgiveness once was a miracle. It wouldn’t happen twice. So he ordered some cannoli and espresso on EvilEats and made the dangerous trek from the front door, deeper into the hotel to find Alastor. He didn’t know precisely which room was his but there was a gut feeling that Alastor would make himself known. He was always watching and would realize quickly enough that Angel was looking for him. 

“Oh Aaaaal~ C’mon, baby… I come bearing tasty treats.”

He called into the empty halls, looking for signs of life in the dimly lit hallways.

“If you’re referring to any of your body parts, Angel, I’m not interested,” he replied smoothly, stepping out from seemingly nowhere. His usual polish was lacking and he appeared far more comfortable, almost bedraggled, this evening. No monocle or bow tie, the top two buttons of his shirt were undone and his shirt sleeves were hiked up to his forearms. Alastor kept strange sleeping habits and Angel had caught him in the middle of one of his afternoon dozes.

Despite their awkward interactions within the last few days, Alastor remained largely unbothered-- save for the trauma he was still working through. Angel’s peace offering and kind gesture, however, was a familiar tactic that he often employed.

Angel wanted something.

“Oh, look at you! You actually weren’t kidding,” Alastor realized, still groggy but slowly catching a grip on reality. He plucked a coffee from one of Angel’s hands, quickly looking it over to make sure nothing was amiss. Strong. Espresso. Now _that_ was timing. 

“Hmm,” another bout of thoughtfulness before taking a precursory sip of molten caffeine. Oh, but the taste! Simply astounding! Alastor visibly sagged. He was suffering from a terrible bout of contentment and relaxed. A rarity, especially around Angel.

“Alright, what do you _want_?” he asked plainly, suspicion taking hold of radio chatter. 

Angel was taken aback at the sight of Alastor so… Well. Normal. Everyone else wandered around on occasion in relaxed clothes, looking sleepy, looking like they might have a touch of humanity to them. This was the first glimpse of that he'd ever gotten of it on Alastor and his words failed him for a moment. He admired it openly, his smile becoming less practiced and more naturally sweet. 

"It's… Ah.. Ah haha…" he had to clear his throat, and regain his composure, smoothing his hands over himself and through his hair. He glanced around, looking for any other prying ears. He absolutely did not want Charlie overhearing this. 

"It's not what I want, Al. More like… what I don't want. And what _you_ don't want."

Angel reached out and fiddled with the open collar of Alastor's shirt, straightening it a bit. He took a few steps back and leaned casually against the wall, looking down at his own coffee and the little box that contained the cannoli. He sighed and slumped slightly. 

"Stop tryna keep me locked up in here. You're makin' things more dangerous for me. And I promise to never subject you to the viewing pleasure of my body of work again. Unless you ask, a'course."

He looked up from the box and to Alastor. He scanned the other demon slowly, looking for any inclination as to what was going on in his head. An impossible task but he'd keep trying. 

"I can appreciate you tryna work your angle. Demons gotta do what they gotta do. Thing is, I gotta look out for me. You sure as shit ain't gonna and the princess can't really do shit yet, huh? So… We good?"

“Oh, but I _could_ ,” look out for Angel, that was. “If only you’d let me _,_ ” Alastor knew how to make that sound all too seductive. The depth and clarity of his tenor honed in like that was syrupy and rife with sin. He smiled and leaned in, delicately snatching Angel’s chin in between his thumb and index finger. He gazed up to him with a clever smile and let a beat of silence hang between them.

No use in beating a dead horse.

“No matter! _Now_ , if you were to call the state I saw you in the other night an example of you watching out for yourself, well then I’d say you’re doing a pretty terrible job,” he explained, stepping out of Angel’s space and gesturing with his free hand. “ _Honestly_ , bruises? Tears? Who in their right mind voluntarily signs up for that kind of thing!” Not the strange things that Angel’s clientele might like— no. Real, _actual_ trauma.

“Regardless, if you come back like that again, I _will_ have to intervene. After all, you can’t hope to redeem yourself if you’re stuck in the sickhouse,” Alastor was still charged with helping Charlie, whether or not it suited the interest of their potential deal or not.

“But you may leave as you wish, Angel,” he conceded, taking on a tone that was less theatrical and more conversational. There was less studio chatter but his tone remained light. Intimate. Like there was once a man beneath the antlers. A glimmer of something hidden.

“I won’t stop you.”

_Oh_ , that’s what that was.

Alastor was being _honest_.

Alastor made points that had validity on the surface but Angel had a different perspective. Maybe he was being self destructive but this was hell. And unlike Alastor, Angel's options for survival had been limited upon arrival. He was making the best he could out of a bad situation. Clinging to someone more powerful who could protect him was the best option he'd had and well… Val could be as sweet as he could be cruel. 

"I'm not some big hot shot who came down here with the kinda strength you got, Al. My choices were limited. Without Val… Well I dunno. Maybe it's a shame I didn't meet you first, but I guess I'll never know."

He ran his fingers over where Alastor's had been. He felt a little bit of relief and the fear in his chest unclenched. He didn't trust Alastor. If he did or could, this would be different. Carnage and destruction held no allure for Angel. Sure, he and Cherri got up to plenty of rampagey goodness but there was a difference in punching up rather than down. 

Overlords rarely did the former. 

"I already made a deal once and you see how that looks. Why would I believe you'd be any different?" 

It wasn't an accusation but an honest sign of self preservation. He stepped into Alastor's space smiling almost sadly. 

"It'd be nice if you were."

He paused and shifted awkwardly, clearing his throat. This had gone differently than he'd expected. At the end of the day, Alastor would do what he saw fit and there was little Angel could do to stand in the way of it, but he felt confident that there'd be some time before Val felt the need to beat him down again. That was the best he could hope for. 

"Anyway I… Uh… gotta get packed to leave. Looks like I interrupted a nap. I should… Beat it. I'll… See ya when I get back?"

Angel’s reasoning was sound even though it didn't suit his agenda. Alastor wouldn’t argue, instead he’d continue to employ the wealth of patience he reserved for these kinds of situations. Only time would tell if Alastor truly was any different than Valentino. He was certainly far more peculiar than the other, but it was too soon to tell what was lingering beneath his own violent and bloody reputation. In Alastor’s case, in moments like this, there was a distinct separation between man and legend. No one really knew what was beneath Alastor’s inky black surface, but Angel was getting a rare glimpse.

“I’m counting on it,” he replied, raising his eyebrows with a friendly grin. “Oh, and a word to the wise! When attempting to get on my good side, sweets aren’t the way to go, Angel. However, there is one exception. I simply adore chocolate,” very dark and very bitter, like a good cup of coffee.

Like this one. 

“Now, did you need someone to watch over and care for your adorable little snack, _sha_?” he asked, a foreign lilt coloring his words. A drawl, a little hot and syrupy, like warm sorghum or a blistering day out on the banks of the bayou. Whatever it was, it was far more charming than his rehearsed transatlantic crooning.

It didn’t last long.

“Or have you harangued Husk into watching your little darling already?” It sounded strangely like an offer. Alastor was morbidly curious about the hellpiglet.

A creeping flush tinged the skin beneath Angel's fur. There was a kind of warmth and inviting nature in Alastor's words, his demeanor. It was hard to see it as an act. Something about the context of the situation made it all feel so very grounded in reality. _Counting on it_. 

Angel poked Alastor's chest, gentle and playful, shaking his head. 

"Nuh uh, toots. Fat Nuggets isn't a snack. That's _me._ And yeah… Husky ways watches him for me. Kinda startin' to think he actually likes the lil darlin'. It's kinda sweet."

Angel looked toward the lobby and then back to Alastor. 

"But… Fat Nuggets can be a handful for Husky, so… If ya help him out, I'll bring ya more espresso when I come back. And maybe even some dark chocolate. Since ya don't go for the fun kinda favors," Angel smiled, propping his second set of hands on his hips, while the first folded over his chest. He was standing straighter, smiling more calmly, and was more at ease. He turned and started to head back up the hallway, but stopped, pivoting slightly. 

"Oh and uh, one last thing," he winked and blew Alastor a kiss, a tiny pink heart manifesting and dissipating into a whip of smoke against Alastor's cheek. Not real touching. Right? "Thanks."

And with that, Angel departed.

Alastor stood there, lingering in the hall in silence as his brain tried to wrap itself around their interaction. Was Angel actually proving to be… _tolerable?_

“Well then! I suppose there was bound to be at least _one_ cold day in hell,” he reasoned aloud to himself quietly. What a miracle it was to leave a conversation with Angel not wanting to murder anyone or anything within the immediate vicinity. Even the casual flirtation was acceptable. Perhaps it was because it lacked the enthusiastic showmanship that Angel often employed, where everything was pornographically camp no matter how inappropriate the situation.

Alastor retreated back to his own room, collecting himself before bothering Husk for the beginning of his usual evening libations.

Angel was right about Fat Nuggets.

When Alastor finally found himself at the bar, he quickly found himself sharing in Husk’s babysitting duties, juggling a drink and a hyper miniature pig from under his arm. That evening was when Alastor realized that a little time and patience that all of this could be remedied with a little bit of discipline and care.

“Alright, now you listen to me!” he demanded, pointing a threatening finger in the piglet’s face. “I will _not_ be tolerating this kind of behavior any longer! Where were you raised, a barn?”

Laugh track.

“Now, _sit!_ ” he exclaimed, hellbent on providing some order to this tiny pig’s chaos. Alastor would keep at it for as long as Angel was gone, too. It might have been work now, but it would afford them less irritation in the future.

Fat Nuggets was receptive to Alastor’s training, to the surprise of everyone, but especially Husk, who had failed to do so. Probably because of his apathy. Still, it passed the time. He fixed drinks, took care when he wasn’t busy, and managed a begrudging thank you for the help. Charlie, for her part, kept herself glued to the news. She was waiting for the worst, as she did each time Angel left the hotel. He’d set a pretty bad precedent, and she was nervously nail-biting. The first day there was no word. Business as usual. 

When there was no word on day two, either, Charlie didn’t relax, despite Vaggie’s encouragement to do so. If anything, she was more nervous than before. She kept a television going in whatever room she was occupying to listen. And things stayed quiet until day four, when something peculiar happened. Every screen in hell flickered at once and a blue face stared out of it. Charlie called for Vaggie, Husk stopped what he was doing to look, though he maintained a level of disinterest. Just another Overlord flexing. 

" _Good evening, hellions. I've come to bring you a very important broadcast I think you'll all enjoy. Think of it as a delightful reminder that every demon has their place, their own property, and you should remember what's yours. And what isn't…"_

Vox. 

The screen flickered and suddenly Val and Vox were standing together, Val's arm slung casually over Vox's shoulders. They were in the studio and behind them was a crowd of demons. Maybe fifteen, but the large silhouette that Val and Vox cut obscured the true number. Val pulled on a cigar and exhaled a plume of smoke. 

" _I give you the beautiful, tantalizing, entertainment you crave but remember how easily I can take it back. You only see him because I allow it… Isn't that right… Anglecakes?"_

Vox and Val parted, allowing the full scene to fill the screen. Angel was strung up by his wrists, on display for all to see, worn out, damp, panting, scratched, bitten, bruised. He was a lewd display of power and it was meant for one person in all of hell to see. Charlie gasped, covering her mouth, taking a few steps back before turning and cowering into Vaggie's arms, burying her face away from the sight. The sound of glass shattering echoed in the lobby as Husk crushed a glass in his hand, sending shards everywhere that Niffty immediately began cleaning up, mumbling to herself about the mess. 

This was an insult as much as it was a show that Alastor had gotten under Val's skin, and Vox was helping him flex his control. When the demons started in on Angel again Charlie begged it be turned off. To her it felt like failure and even she sat down for a drink as they all sank into silence, and then one by one, filed out, leaving Husk alone at the bar with his charge. A few hours later, Angel was back. 

He stepped into the hotel lobby on shaking legs, no smile, no bravado. Just a small paper bag in hand and wet fur. He smelled of soap and his face was bare. Not a stitch of makeup. His sweats were loose on his enfeebled frame. He strode up to the bar and sat down gingerly, hissing and flinching in discomfort as he set the bag on the bar top. Fat Nuggets snuffed around until he found him and Angel picked him up, cuddling him close in his arms. 

Husk poured him a drink. 

"You uh… you okay?"

Angel laughed bitterly and picked up the drink. 

"Guess he was still mad that I missed my last shoot. I'll be fine. Nothin' I can't handle."

Angles trembling hand said otherwise. 

"You need anything?" 

"I'm fine… Just go. Leave the bottle."

Angel wasn't interested in pity. Husk wasn't about to argue. He pushed the bottle toward Angel and reluctantly, with one backward glance, began to leave. 

"Glad you're back," Husk said. Angel sighed. He wasn't so sure he should have come but Val insisted. Angel was on strict orders here, and he wasn't in a state to disobey. At the very least, he'd paid Val back and then some. One less thing to worry about. His public humiliation was a small price to pay.

* * *

Despite Angel’s absence, nights at the hotel had fallen into a quiet routine until the moment Valentino and Vox decided to intervene. Alastor had found a way to wrangle and harness Fat Nugget’s energy into something more productive, passing time and keeping himself entertained-- and once Alastor deigned that there was no more work to be done, he left. In fact, it was inside of one of the few haunts he truly enjoyed that Valentino and Vox put an end to a night of gin, music, and stage entertainment.

Inside the hazy Vaudevillian den, a strange hush fell over the crowd when two of the three V’s appeared in the conversations around him and on the screen of a nearby mobile telephone. Alastor’s attention shifted from the sounds of twinkling keys and what felt like a bottomless glass of whiskey onto the nearest glowing screen.

Angel.

Alastor’s eyes widened at first, too little to perceive from any simpleton’s perception, but the intense narrowing that followed was easily identifiable as simmering _rage_. It only grew in its intensity as he eavesdropped from every phone screen that tuned in. Val and Vox standing there, arrogantly putting on a display of power. Angel, bound and appearing close to breaking. He loomed over the shoulder of a fellow patron, antlers casting a dark spindly shadow onto the ground in front of him, draining the light from everything around him.

“Aww, man, they’re really given it to ‘im, huh?” a horned demon mentioned up to Alastor, nudging him playfully with his elbow.

Alastor’s attention shifted immediately, a break neck angle as he looked at the foolishly friendly demon by his side. His red eyes glowed with an intensity that could burn a hole through flesh and his grin was twisted and tight.

“H-holy shit, y’you’re--” he stuttered, shrinking back out of surprise. “Sorry, I was just--”

Alastor leaned in, thick black curls of smoke dancing around him as he stewed in silence. He didn’t speak very loudly, he didn’t need to with how close he was to the blue and black goat patron.

“ _I_ ,” he began, leaning down at a more appropriate height. “Will _eat_ you.”

Alastor’s threat found him with much less company than he had earlier, which allowed him to move more freely when he decided that it was time to leave once the broadcast ended. Despite his fading inebriation, he was already contemplating a response.

They were making Charlie look like a fool, which in turn, made Alastor look the same by association. Not only that, but Angel was slowly becoming a personal investment that Alastor hadn’t counted on-- which made it difficult for Alastor to pinpoint the exact reason for his unbridled rage. Was it because he looked like some kind of simpleton in partnership with Charlie, or was it because they had violated the spider that he’d only recently come to appreciate?

It didn’t matter. Anger was anger to Alastor in this moment, and next on his agenda was to get back to the hotel as he tried to control it. Responding rashly would spell a victory for Val and Vox, and he wasn’t going to let that happen anytime soon.

The entrance he made into the lobby was through the floor. A blanket of inky black tendrils whipped up from around the ground as he walked up through it like a set of stairs. The shadow he casted bowed the walls and the old wood creaked as he took steps that sounded heavier than they should have been. The chandelier rattled above him and he ignored the troubled look on Husk’s face.

“Rough night?” he asked, seemingly the only one in the immediate vicinity.

As fond as Alastor was for witty retorts, he had none. Instead, the look he shot to the winged cat occupying the space behind the bar was so intense the glass in his monocle fractured.

“Alright, _alright_ , forget I fuckin’ asked.”

“I _will_ ,” Alastor replied darkly, retreating to the space inside the Hotel he claimed as his own.

He stewed quietly for the next few hours, but every macabre thought and emotion seemed to permeate the air of the Hotel, heavy and cold with it. Time allowed him to find composure, as well as Angel’s presence returning to the Hotel’s lobby. Instead of immediately hounding the other, he let Angel acclimate to the blessed silence of the night, probably the most of it he’d gotten within the last few days.

Alastor stepped out from behind a blindspot from around the corner of the bar and moved with practiced ease as to not disturb Angel’s silence. He leaned a hand against the edge of the bar opposite from Angel, standing where Husk once was an hour ago before he left the spider with his quickly emptying bottle.

Angel, although at times obnoxious, wasn’t stupid. Alastor had made himself clear before he’d left and they were going to have a conversation about it.

‘ _Regardless, if you come back like that again, I will have to intervene._ ’

However, a gentler hand was required here. The conversation would come in time, so instead, he did something against whatever usual expectations other’s typically held about him and employed something entirely different here.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked, attempting to find footing within a gesture that he wasn’t used to employing.

 _Care_.

Angel blinked slowly, eyes struggling to focus through the alcohol and exhaustion. He peered up at Alastor, at first, seemingly surprised to see him. The words he spoke took a while to sink in while Fat Nuggets hopped out of Angel's arms and trotted politely across the floor rather than the bar to greet Alastor with a small sniffle, sitting at his feet and peering up at him patiently. Angel smiled with half lidded eyes and pushed the brown bag across the bar toward Alastor. 

"Oh hey, Al… Here. Thanks for helpin' out with Nugs," he said wearily. He wasn't ready to acknowledge the fact that Alastor had undoubtedly seen everything. Vox had been particularly dutiful and quelling Val's rage by making sure no screen in hell was left untouched. The promise Alastor had made was still in the back of his mind. The entire time he'd been streamed to the world that one thought had festered. He hadn't thought of much beyond what the outcome would be. What Alastor would do… 

"The gal at the shop said it was… 70% cacao. Nice and dark," Angel explained. As he'd said, Angel had still brought Alastor some chocolate. Dark and bitter. Just like everything else. He poured himself another glass and took a careful sip. There was a conversation brewing beneath the surface. One he knew they'd have eventually, but Angel didn't have the strength. He laughed, brokenly, as his sanity crumpled and tears welled in his eyes. This was a disaster of his own making, he felt he had no one here to blame but himself. He'd been a fool to think he could make this arrangement work. At first he didn't give a shit if it did but now… 

Now a little redemption didn't sound so bad. 

"I…" False start. Every word he could have said died on his lips. He buried his face in his hands and laughed and sobbed. He was too weak and too much of a coward to face this. His father's disapproval hung heavy, like a noose around his neck. He'd been a disappointment in life and now in death, nothing had changed. 

He tried again. 

"It's not so bad, right? Least I'm not… exterminated. I… Made the choice and I'm surviving."

His head snapped up and he gave Alastor a crooked smile that didn't make it to his eyes. 

"Don't… Don't give 'em the satisfaction. Val sent me back here for a reason. Don't take the bait, Al. Please. I'm not… It's not worth it."

Angel’s gesture caused an ache to find a home inside of Alastor’s chest, strange and unwelcome. Whatever it was, it wasn’t something he was used to. It was just another thing that aided in tipping Alastor off of his usually stable axis.

He looked down to the piglet at his feet with a strained grin and nodded. _Attaboy_. Alastor returned his gaze to Angel and remained uncharacteristically quiet, letting the spider go through the motions of conversation, dancing around the subject until it couldn’t be ignored any longer.

Alastor let Angel cry quietly, unsure of what to do. He motioned for the hellpiglet to go and comfort him with a gesture and an expectant look. Besides that simple effort, he stayed eerily quiet.

Navigating this was proving to be difficult. He couldn’t bring himself to submit Angel to any of his anger, not now. Alastor wanted to, desperately. To rant and rave, to harp on the sheer _audacity_ of it all. Did they forget _who_ they were messing with? Alastor reeled himself back, but the tension hung on him like a deadweight.

He leaned down onto the bar, resting on his elbows and keeping his gaze even and expressionless as he watched Angel nearly beg him not to respond to the antagonizing gesture. Alastor ran his tongue over his sharp teeth from behind a tight closed mouth grin, internally menacing.

Alastor let himself simmer in silence, tapping a sharp finger on the top of the bar twice before exhaling evenly.

“And what would _you_ have me do, Angel?” he asked slowly, raising an eyebrow through his carefully animated inquiry. There was so much unsaid in his question, but what was inferred came through with crystalline clarity.

Alastor would raze hell to find and destroy Val and Vox, in the darkest and most twisted ways Alastor could imagine possible. Death would come as a welcome respite once Alastor had his hands on them. The possibility of dying a second time would be something he’d be willing to explore in their case— once the punishment was over.

“Despite your ignorance diminishing in regards to my reputation, you know that I am incapable of doing _nothing_ ,” he reminded, carefully wrapping his fingers around the top of one of Angel’s hands. Alastor squeezed carefully, tight. A hint at the rage that continued to boil beneath Alastor’s poised surface, but it quickly grew calm as he reeled himself back in yet again. A thumb brushed against the top of Angel’s knuckles and he watched himself provide rare but real affection.

“Perhaps we incinerate that bridge to ash once you find yourself in a better state, _hmm_?” Lucifer be damned, Alastor was trying here— to keep himself from losing his composure and exploding into a warpath.

“Why don’t we get you settled in for the night,” he suggested, attempting to steer them away from the point where Alastor would eventually lose his cool.

Alastor's hand on Angel's broke the last bit of dignity Angel had been so desperately trying to keep intact. It was too gentle. Too real. Too familiar. He shuddered another sob and intertwined his fingers around Alastor's own for a moment before flattening his palm against the bar top. He knew Alastor couldn't simply do nothing. This was only the big Ning spark to an absolute Blaze and Angel was now the one caught in the crossfire. It was so much simpler when this cycle only affected him. Now everyone in this damn hotel was involved, but most especially, Alastor. 

"They want you to make a move… fuckin' reindeer games…" 

Angel knew the steps to this dance. He knew they hoped Alastor would make a show of trying to get back at them so the real big player would simply squash Alastor for them. It hadn't been said explicitly, but Angel knew what this was. He'd been involved in similar plots when still alive. You lure out your enemy. Once they make their bold move, their own hubris gets them whacked. Rival gangs. The feds. Didn't matter. Why do the dirty work when someone else could? And Angel was afraid of being swept up in that wake. He was in no headspace to try and formulate a plan. Alastor seemed to see that. 

Settled in. 

He felt there was nothing that could truly settle him. Every time he moved he felt the stinging reminder of what had happened. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the grinning faces of Val and Vox as he was taken apart. Every pore on his body felt clogged and tainted by it. For Alastor's sake, maybe he'd hazard a try. He nodded weakly and Fat Nuggets tugged at his sweats with his little teeth. Angel stood on shaking legs and braced himself against the bar top. 

"Y-Yeah. Okay," he didn't have it in him to argue. He simply began making his way, using the wall as a support as he wound down the halls toward his room. He didn't want to be alone. His eyes kept searching the dark corners of the hotel for a threat that simply wasn't there. When he made it to his door he stopped, hands pressed to the wood. 

"Can… Can we make a deal? Just for tonight, Al?" 

He couldn't face Alastor, his words were muffled by his close proximity to the door. His fingers curled into a fist and he stared into the woodgrain as if it could provide answers. 

"Stay with me and I'll give you info ya want on Val and Vox in the mornin'... Nothin' funny. Don't think I could stand another round'a that. I just don't wanna face this empty room alone. _Per favore_?" 

Alastor followed closely behind, reaching out to steady Angel when his body threatened to falter. When they halted at the door, Alastor half expected a clipped _‘good night,’_ be on his way, and go destroy some _thing_ or some _one_ inconsequential to release some of his roiling frustration. The mention of a deal, even one so seemingly small, held his involuntary attention in a vice like grip instead. Unexpected.

Those words were far too ingrained within his nature to ignore. A carrot to a horse, a bee to honey. Angel had his _full_ attention. To his surprise, the terms were even fair.

Granted, it was something that could have been proposed as a simple favor, but Angel had to go ahead and phrase it like _that_.

Alastor cleared his throat and stood with a posture that was at full attention. Angel didn’t even begin to know how dangerous those words were, even in this harmless kind of context.

“We have a _deal_ ,” he replied, the crackle of radio waves in his voice and the faint hum of bass feedback resonated in the hallway. Ephemeral static seemed to ripple in the ether and color the hotel hallway. Pure, unchecked _power_.

… and just like _that_ , they were bound— at least until the terms of their agreement were fulfilled.

He followed after Angel into his room, ignoring the encroaching flashback of the last time he was present within these four walls. Alastor twirled a finger in the air and a lush high backed chair appeared next to Angel’s bed and an equally plush red ottoman sat at the end of it. It was where he would camp for the rest of the night to watch over the other and provide whatever company Angel desired.

Whatever Angel required up until he fell asleep Alastor would supply. Care, comfort and consideration, after all, it was a part of their deal, or at least Alastor would reason it that way to himself.

Angel disregarded the strange hum of static as they made a deal. The terms were simple and safe, and some small part of him even felt guilty using that phrasing to ensnare Alastor's company. He needed it. He needed to feel some kind of security and the emptiness of the room would have only made things worse. 

Fat Nuggets trotted in after them and curled up in his bed as Angel limped to his own. The appearance of the chair was sudden but welcome. It broke up the monotonous familiarity of the space and allowed Angel to relax a bit. Alastor was staying. It was safe. Nothing could touch him in the Radio Demon's presence. That much had been made abundantly clear a short while ago. He dropped onto his bed and buried his face in his pillows to dry his tears, clinging to his bedding for a moment in the hopes that it might provide some sense of security. 

He found none until the door was shut and Alastor was perched. Angel scooted toward the edge of the bed and reached a tentative hand out placing his palm on the arm of the chair. 

"Is it everything you hoped? Watching someone _fall down into the depths of the miserable pit of failure_ and all that?" Angel asked, his voice hoarse and raw. His lips curled into a sour smile. There was a sad sort of levity to his tone, showing Alastor that he wasn't accusing. He listened closer than most seemed to realize and maybe that would be Val and Vox' undoing, but for now, it was his way of saying he knew Alastor came here looking for something, just like Angel had. In his own weird way, he hoped Alastor found it. 

“How _clever_ ,” Alastor interjected, an eyebrow raised and one furrowed. A grin that twisted around and veiled an amused grimace vacationed on his face for a brief moment before it turned calm again. Alastor appreciated Angel’s clever callback, but he had nothing encouraging to add. This wasn’t rock bottom, but it sure felt like licking a wound.

That pit of miserable failure was far more interesting when Alastor _wasn’t_ dragged down into it with someone else. Surely, the brunt of the weight that failure provided rested far more heavily on Angel than it did Alastor, but still, perhaps that weight wouldn’t have been so heavy if he never interfered in the first place. There would be no enjoying this one, not when he was now involved tangled up in the messy and complicated web that was Angel’s life.

"I think you're right about redemption," Angel croaked, exhaustion taking over, "I had my chance… maybe this is just what I deserve…"

His eyes slipped shut and his breathing began to even out. 

"Night, Al."

Sleep claimed Angel in an instant. His tear stained face seemed to find some kind of peace and he relaxed, boneless against the mattress. Slowly, his fingers slipped away from the arm of the chair, leaving them to dangle between them. 

Alastor relaxed into the freshly manifested chair and watched Angel Dust drift away. Alastor stamped out his anger and frustration for the rest of the night by allowing himself to dream up twisted scenarios involving ample amounts of revenge and carnage— well, not before sandwiching Angel’s hand between his and the armrest. It was his part of the deal to make sure Angel didn’t feel alone and this was extra effort on his part. Alastor wasn’t going to question why it didn’t feel that way though and simply let it be.


	4. Chapter 4

Falling asleep himself wasn’t something Alastor hadn’t counted on. He was barely coherent when he heard rustling come from where Angel had retired and shifted in his seat once wakefulness began to bleed into the edges of his dream.

His mouth tasted like stale gin and malice.

No, he wasn’t ready to wake up yet, even if Angel’s hand slid out of his own and the sounds of the other waking up hit his sagging ears.

Angel would be treated to a view of Alastor in incredibly rare form.

Long legs extended and crossed at the ankles on top of Angel’s covers, shoes still on. He had forgone the use of the ottoman somewhere in the middle of night and he twisted into the corner of the looming chair in order to make the stretch. It was, however, the bridge the small pig needed in order to find a warm nest in Alastor’s lap in the middle of the night— whose hand was gently resting on top of him and making a half-awake effort to pet the soft peach fuzz that covered his body. His own ears were a little limp, not as erect as they normally were and angled limply in the direction his head was pitched.

No smile graced his features as he slept, smoothing his face into something far less menacing. Peaceful was a word no one in hell would have used to describe Alastor, but it would have fit the bill in this strange case.

When Angel woke, every inch of him hurt. He'd be feeling this for weeks if his previous similar experiences were anything to go by. It was the pain that woke him. He shifted, trying to hide from the light of day but to no avail. It was here and the pain wouldn't let him find sleep again. Slowly and very carefully, he eased up into a sitting position. He found his covers pinned by a pair of sharp shoes. 

Angel blinked a few times at the sight of shiny black on his bed and then his eyes meandered up the length of long legs until he spied Fat Nuggets (the traitor) in someone else's lap. Alastor. Alastor was here. Angel had been drunk and depressed when he asked Alastor to stay, but he was still glad for it this morning. He took a moment to appreciate the sight of such a menacing figure completely disarmed. In his sleep addled haze, pain making his movements sluggish, he reached out, almost grasping Alastor's shoulder, but instead his fingers twitched to his hair. He ran his fingers through Alastor's hair and down the side of his face, thumb over his cheek, and then withdrew. 

"Hey… Look at that. You spent the night and I didn't leave you totally scandalized," he spoke soft, not wanting to jar Alastor too much. He figured it best to wake him, but gently seemed the better approach. Angel's other hands sought his phone and he quickly pulled up the EvilEats app, placing an order for espresso again. Same place as before. Sure, they'd made a deal and Angel still owed his half, but there were no rules against being grateful. Right? 

That's all it was. Gratitude. 

"Seems like you made a friend, huh Nugs?" 

Angel's fingers bumped Alastor's as he ruffled Fat Nuggets behind the ears. His phone pinged twice. Once to confirm his order, and a second time to alert him that Valentino had texted him. He opened the message and the softness of early morning was washed away by a fresh wave of anxiety. 

**[Val ❤️] : What's the haps, Anglecakes?**

Angel began tapping out a reply. 

**He didn't seem to care. I'll let ya know if anything changes, daddy. Promise. xo**

He hit send and tossed the phone aside. He sank his fingers into his hair and held his head in his hands, taking a few steadying breaths. He'd lied. He'd lied to help Alastor save face. This was the first in a long line of choices that Angel knew could be bad for him. It wasn't that he didn't care… No. 

Angel looked at Alastor and managed a weak smile. 

"Got coffee comin'. Seems like you could use it as much as me."

What he cared about was simply changing, whether he liked it or not. 

The presence of a caress caused Alastor’s eyebrows to knit together on his forehead. The motions were plain to read on his face and told a story of ebbing displeasure. First, a display of concern settled in around his shut eyes, pulling the corner of his slack mouth tight with a silent gripe-- and then  _ suddenly  _ something far more telling appeared with the last brush of his scalp and a gentle graze of a finger gliding down along his cheek. Contentment-- and Alastor in his sleep drunk state was drowning in it.

The current situation, had he been more coherent, would have offered Alastor a healthy amount of distress. This kind of intimacy would be enough to throw him off, even visibly. A deer in headlights, nearly literally.

Despite Alastor’s comforted grin-- that had somehow bled into the fading dream he was having, one of his ear’s twitched at the sound of Angel Dust’s voice. He startled with a sharp inhale and blinked heavily, eyebrows raising and a distinct perk of his ears following closely behind.

It was clear that he hadn’t expected to doze off, looking out of sorts at himself and the piglet in his lap.

“I would advise you to speak for yourself,” he replied, voice still rough from sleep and a microphone whined over it as he worked how mortified he was at all of this. Except--  _ Oh! _

_ Pain,  _ like a charlie horse or a cramp,  _ bad  _ pain and it ached deep within the base of Alastor’s spine. 

__ “ _ Ah-- I-I _ , am going to have to ask you to politely  _ shift your carcass _ ,” he stuttered out roughly to Fat Nuggets, his legs quickly bent at the knees to standing and he placed Fat Nuggets back onto the cushion. He had an expedient choice to make. Either let Angel see the pained look on his face or turn his back to him and give him another view of something equally embarrassing.

So, he hid the lower portion of himself, from the middle of his chest down, behind the chair he had slept in. Pain like this wasn’t a kind that could be ignored and dealt with later. Alastor tilted his face away and quickly set to rubbing the area above his tail and the shaft of it. 

He’d  _ slept  _ on it.

Crunched it beneath himself for hours and he was equally dying from the pain of it and having to deal with it in front of Angel.

“Thank you, I--” he began, trying to make conversation over what was happening, desperately willing the awkwardness of it away-- it wasn’t working, but Alastor tried. “-- I appreciate the gesture.”

Angel quirked a brow and watched Alastor move around his space. Every bit of his demeanor had become strange and stiff. Then again, was it really so strange? He squinted, tilting his head to one side as he tried to peak around the chair. He gave Fat Nuggets a few pets and then rose from his seat, leaning his body around the side of the chair to get a better look at what Alastor seemed to be attempting to hide. 

"You okay, Al?" Angel asked. He moved so quickly and fluidly through his own space it was a mere step and turn to get an eye full of what Alastor attempting to hide. Angel sank sharp teeth into his lower lip, huffing through his nose. He tried not to snicker. He really did. But the sight before him was just too absurd. Why hide? Was it so difficult to show imperfections? At this point it barely tipped the scale considering how blatantly all of Angel's own nonsense was on display for Alastor all the time. 

"Awe, Al… You a little sore? Stiff from sleepin' on it… You should lemme give you a hand rubbing that out. It's part of my profession after all," Angel was all flirt and very little joke, but his smirk softened as he closed in on Alastor's personal space. 

"No seriously… You stayed here all night, it's the least I can do. And I promise I'll be an absolute gentleman about it," he spoke lowly, eyelids drooping slightly as he got closer. The fact that he'd been looking to get a hand in that fluffy little tail of Alastor's was merely coincidental. That being said, consent was key if he wanted to keep his hands. 

"I take caring for needs very seriously. As seriously as you take your deals."

Maybe Angel was feeling a bit emboldened by whatever weird bond was forming between them, maybe he truly had a death wish. Either way. He was looming in wait for Alastor's answer and if it was no there  _ would  _ be pouting.

Drowning in relief, Alastor was too busy savoring it to keep track of Angel and his prying eyes. He shuddered with a twitch of his ears. Alastor’s breath came a little raggedly and he felt utterly exposed with all the attention he had to give himself. The ache was only just beginning to fade when Angel crowded him, bringing a hefty amount of innuendo along with him. Alastor bristled and stopped moving, whipping his head around in a comical display of offense-- adjusting his eyeline to Angel’s.

_ Excuse me, but how dare you _ , was what his face said with his eyes sharp and pointed. Alastor swallowed, a breath escaping unevenly as he began processing Angel’s offer.

“...  _ maybe _ ,” he replied brusquely, conflict painting a constipated grin on his face. “You said nothing funny, until our deal resolved.” Until Angel fulfilled his end of the bargain, Alastor had a string to pull if he decided to get too familiar with him. All he had to do was snap or wave his fingers in order to remove him from his immediate proximity. The terms of their deal was something he could take advantage of and work in his favor.

Besides, Alastor wasn’t particularly good at this on himself. It was akin to itching a scratch between shoulder blades, reachable, but the angle was always wrong and the effect always left something to be desired. Never real relief.

“Fine, I give you permission-- but  _ none  _ of this gets out.. to  _ anyone _ !” he warned, the radio fuzz over his voice distorting the unease Alastor felt. He’d get into the details of what the repercussions would be as soon as Angel set his hands on him. It’d be something to keep his mind occupied from the displeasure this was going to bring him.

Angel's entire face lit up with joy. Pure, unbridled joy. He nodded eagerly, carefully taking Alastor by the shoulders with one set of hands and the waist with the other, directing him out of his hiding spot and toward the bed. 

"Don't you worry. I wouldn't share this with anyone," Angel assured him as he fussed with making the bed tidy enough for Alastor to find it acceptable. Niffty had cleaned the sheets while Angel had been away and they still smelled of fresh laundering. He smoothed out the comforter and patted the mattress. 

"Get comfortable. Face down," Angel winked and with careful hands directed Alastor to recline and relax. Once he was fully satisfied with the positioning, he took a seat on the edge of the bed and set to work. One set of hands worked against Alastor's shoulders, along his upper back, firm and sure, each motion practiced and confident. His second set of hands twitched with excitement as they set to work at the lower back. 

_ Oh, not the  bed! _

Alastor internalized a grimace and braced himself for another fresh wave of discomfort, one that wasn’t physical, but one that bore a hole into his brain via his memories. Still, the promise of release from physical discomfort outweighed the sourness that welled deep down inside the pit of his stomach. The weight on top of him was more than he was expecting. Alastor had simply thought that they’d attempt this standing where they had been, but Angel’s touch bordered on professional, which made Alastor suddenly grateful for the mattress beneath him. He would have quickly made it to the floor once Angel worked on his lower back and dragged his fingers through the tufts of his tail with practiced care.

Angel was tender and thorough with every rub and stroke working his way through knotted muscles at the base of Alastor's tail. He even carefully combed bent out of shape tufts of fur back into place with careful drags of his fingers. He was silent. Partly out of fear that if he said anything remotely untoward that Alastor would rapidly change his mind and possibly eat his hands, and partly out of dedication to his focus. He wanted to do well. He didn't get to do things like this enough anymore. 

For Alastor, this was indulgent— not the back rub, entirely. No, it was the way that Angel handled him and the ruffled fur at the base of his spine.

_ Especially _ that.

Alastor’s shoulders tensed, hiking them up to his ears as he hid his face and neck from view. The heat that spread along his skin crept up into his cheeks. In his hands he balled covers into his fists and Alastor metered out a breath that threatened to be something else altogether.

To the deer attempting to bury himself in Angel’s bed, having attention lavished on the furry and perky appendage was akin to lips skating across the sensitive flesh of a neck or whisper spoken softly against the shell of an ear. Maybe he should have indicated it as such, but Alastor felt it might have been obvious in the display of his embarrassment from earlier.

Angel found there was something grounding and comforting about knowing his hands could still do good things. What qualified as good was subjective, of course, but to Angel? This counted. He worked for fifteen solid minutes, finally interrupted by the chirp of his phone. Their coffee was here. Dropped off at the bar with Husk. Good. Angel smoothed four hands down the length of Alastor's back and slowly stood. 

"Take it easy. Blood pressure goes a little funny sometimes… I'll be back with coffee in two shakes,  _ presentatore _ ," Angel winked over his shoulder as he left Alastor alone for a few minutes to go get their coffee. The affectionate use of an italian word as a pet name was showing his hand. Alastor had won Angel's favor last night. 

His  _ respect.  _

The chime of Angel’s phone pulled Alastor out from the distraction he was crafting in his head. He looked up suddenly from the pillow he’d been face down in, glancing at the interruption. He was conflicted over if he should have been grateful for it or not. Alastor had been dangerously close to plucking a few of those strings regarding their deal— at no fault to Angel, in order to back away from the threat of making a complete fool of himself and succumbing to something that would have sounded akin to a  _ whine _ .

“Splendid!” he chirped, attempting to right himself out of view from Angel. There wasn’t much he could do to hide the ruddy flush on his neck and cheeks, but a stern smile might have done the trick.

“I’ll wait here and we can have ourselves a chat about what you promised me one you return,” Alastor smoothed his hands over the front of himself and preened in front of one of Angel’s many mirrors once he found himself alone. He thought he was smooth in the way he transitioned back to normalcy, but the execution appeared awkward at best after  _ that _ pillow smothered display.

He did his best to keep his curiosity to himself as he waited in Angel’s room, looking over candid photos posted around the ring of the mirror he had straightened himself in previously. Opening drawers and rifling through things was too nosey even for Alastor, who knew nothing of others personal boundaries. Instead he carefully observed what was on the surface, stepping around a chest to get a better look at the contents of a shelf.

_ Snort _ .

Alastor looked down at his feet and raised his eyebrows, which came with a wider smile.

“You’re going to make him upset with me if you keep this up!” Alastor said while kneeling down. “You can’t let him think you like me better than him— you’re  _ his _ , after all!” and he laughed, petting the pig on his little head.

“Shall we show Angel what we practiced together while he was away?” he asked, gesturing down the floor with a point. The piglet sat and snorted. Next, a twirl of his finger and Fat Nuggets turned around in place. Alastor closed one eye and aimed his index finger at the forehead of Angel’s pet and softly,  _ “Bang!” _ ‘fired.’ The piglet flopped onto the ground. After a moment, Fat Nuggets raised his head from the floor to check for praise.

“ _Ahh_ , _tres_ _magnif, cher_ ,” he replied gleefully with a bright smile, heaping affection onto the piglet who wiggled around on the floor excitedly. Angel should have been back any moment going by the bitter smell of coffee he picked up in the air.

The sight that greeted Angel upon his return had an impact on Angel he hadn't expected. He stood in the doorway, coffee in hand, and watched this terrifying, powerful demon, show kindness and affection to a small, helpless creature. It wasn't exactly the sort of thing he ever expected from Alastor. It made Angel smile. He felt ice around his heart threatening to melt. Best not let that happen. He cleared his throat. 

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," he teased as he stepped into the room and nudged the door shut behind him with his heel. He approached Alastor and offered out the coffee. 

"You know why this coffee is so damn good? Stolas bought up the chain. That feathery fuck can get shit from up top. It's the real deal," he flopped back on his bed and whipped out his phone, scrolling through his social media to see what kind of damage had been done. He was stalling, not because he was gonna bail on the deal, but rather, he didn't want this domesticity to end. 

As he scrolled through various sites, things were looking grim. It wasn't all bad, necessarily. Everyone was talking about him. What they'd seen. What had happened. His performance (if you could call it that) was receiving positive reactions. But the speculation as to who the video was really for was getting out of control already. And Velvet was all over it. Spreading rumors, encouraging all of it. Someone was trying to get Angel all for themselves. Take him out of the public eye. Someone was antagonizing Valentino on purpose. Maybe some obsessed stalker. Damn, Velvet was good at this shit. People were eating her theories up. 

Much as he didn't want to talk about this or involve Alastor further, a deal was a deal. 

"So… Ask me anything. I'm an open book,  _ presentatore.  _ Whatever you wanna know, I'll tell ya if I have any info."

Another text from Valentino. 

**[Val ❤️] : I'm bettin that fuck ain't on social media. Make sure he finds out.**

Angel sighed and tapped out a reply before tucking his phone against his chest and curling in on himself some. 

**Yes, daddy. 😘**

He really didn't want to.

The intentions and motivations that animals possessed were simpler than those of their sinfully human counterparts. Alastor found them to be quite pure, unmuddied by complex emotions and ulterior motives-- except dogs.

Dogs were terrible creatures and couldn’t be trusted.

Small, unassuming hell piglets, however,  _ could _ .

“No, not at all,” Alastor replied, standing up to his full height to meet Angel. He casually strode over and plucked a coffee from his hand and took one last look in Fat Nugget’s direction. The piglet was already bounding over to Angel’s side.

“I can’t say I know who exactly that is,” his admission came before a long sip from his cup. The name sounded familiar. A bird came to mind, perhaps an owl of some sort. Despite Alastor nearing the century mark of his arrival in hell, he didn’t pay much attention to affairs outside of his own. In his mind, the only world that mattered was his, and that world most definitely had to be entertaining.

Alastor returned his gaze back over to Angel, whose eyes were no longer glued to the glowing screen in his hand but elsewhere on himself.

He snapped, calling for Angel’s attention and clearing his throat.

“It would be best for you to listen closely because I am only going to ask you  _ one  _ question and one question only,” he announced with practiced poise.

Up until the point he had fallen asleep, he stewed over what he wanted to know and how he told himself he wasn’t going to project any of his anger onto Angel. He had suffered enough at the hands of Valentino and Vox, but their motivations-- other than providing embarrassment for Charlie and a flexing of muscle to Alastor-- something seemed deeper than what appeared on the surface.

Alastor questioned the sheer effort they employed in order to gain his attention.  _ Overkill _ .

Why did they believe putting Angel through a bout of public violation would even begin to bother Alastor? Yes, it  _ was  _ degrading, and to most simpleton’s that didn’t know the radio demon well enough, it  _ was  _ entertainment. Why would any of it provoke Alastor?

He inhaled evenly and danger crept into his voice.

“What did you tell them, Angel?”

That question hadn't been one Angel had expected. He felt caught out and the sudden shift in his demeanor made that plain to see. He'd said what he'd needed to in order to survive and it was his own words that created the situation. It was why he felt the guilt he did. Why he was so adamant he deserved this. And why he'd told Alastor not to rise to the occasion. A deal was a deal and this fleeting moment of comfort was already over. He didn't want to know what would happen if he tried to sugar coat this, let alone, flat out lie. 

Angel took a deep breath. 

"I took that punishment without fightin' it for a reason, Al… and I begged you not to rise to the occasion…  _ For a reason.  _ So just… Try to keep that in mind while hearin' me out."

Angel stroked Fat Nuggets while a few more texts came in. He ignored them in favor of trying to build up the courage to be honest. 

"After you zapped Val away I told him I'd messed up and tried to seduce ya. That you took it a little too seriously and were tryin' ta keep me here. That I let my wiles get outta hand and was trapped. We talked for a while and I promised him that I'd work it out and pay him back for everything. You can read everything if ya want. So you know I'm tellin' the whole truth," he offered up his phone. Sure there were messages he hadn't opened yet but that was of little consequence compared to how poorly this was going. 

"I told him today you didn't care about that little broadcast."

Angel looked to one of his mirrors and didn't like what he saw. He focused on the bedspread instead. 

"Believe it or don't… But I did what I thought had ta in order ta keep us both safe."

Angel Dust had effectively painted Alastor into a corner ripe with freshly laid conundrum, whether he initially intended to or not. The Radio Demon stopped breathing, eyes like tuning dials drove into Angel’s with violent intensity.

The silence was deafening.

“How unfortunate it is for us both that there is now some truth in your dishonesty,” he finally replied, closely monitoring just how intimidating his clearly tuned voice sounded. 

He realized what a terrible mistake he had made in relenting to Angel. Initially, it was a simple deal proposal that Alastor had offered him, leveraging it using Charlie’s ambition and his own reputation that had been tied up with the hotel. It had foolishly grown into additional efforts which began first as clever manipulation, but now-- now things had gone too far.

The slight that Val and Vox had delivered Alastor  _ had  _ to go ignored now, lest he lose face.

Silent complicity. Dead air.

Roped into a lie that he hadn’t even had the luxury of fabricating.

It wasn’t conventional seduction, but rather a slow build of cautious trust and metered affection between the two of them. It was clear to him that this was a mistake-- all of this involvement. Alastor didn’t suffer from anger, and in this case,  _ hurt,  _ well.

He’d pull away.

Curse himself for ever entertaining any of this.

There were reasons he didn’t often fall into emotional entrapments and with Angel dangling in between the rivalry he had with the three V’s-- he couldn’t risk it. What if he actually told them something truly damning? Or another lie that somehow came to fruition?

“The deal I proposed to you,” he began, puffing up his chest with a breath, “It would be best for you to forget about it. I now realize that it will no longer adequately serve the initial purpose I intended it to.”

“Thank you for the coffee, Angel.”

Angel didn't argue. Just let the phone slip from his grasp and onto the bed. Fat Nuggets came to curl up against him as Alastor made his exit and Angel was once again, alone. The funny thing about hell, was that in it's own way, it was a device of your own making. At the end of the day, he'd wound up making things harder for himself. He was reminded once more that he was just a whore and a fuck up. He pet his little companion and sighed. 

"So much for redemption, huh Nugs?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this up and down chapter. It was definitely hard to write and hurt our hearts a bit. Thanks for your continued feedback and support! We love to hear from you!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot happens in this chapter, and it moves very quickly. Just a little heads up!

Angel's phone was blowing up. One message after another but he couldn't bring himself to look. He laid in bed and let depression take him. After hours of trying to ignore the slew of messages he finally picked up his phone and scrolled through. Cherri wanted to meet up. Val had scheduled him. People were asking about the supposed other demon. 

As he laid there and doomscrolled through comment after comment about him being a whore and a slut and betraying Val, he grew numb and that numbness gave him a sudden clarity. He could fix this. Not for himself but at the very least… At the very least he could fix it for Alastor. He could give him something no one else could. 

Angel pried himself out of bed and looked in the mirror. 

_ I  _ **_am_ ** _ a whore.  _

And for the first time in a long time he was going to make that work for him. He began sending texts. A few lewd photos. Made a few sultry promises. All the while, he was packing a bag and dolling himself up. Something trendy. Modern. With a touch of tech. A nice watch and a pair of sharp tinted glasses. He was out to snare a very specific John tonight and come morning, all of hell would know exactly who it was trying to steal Angel away from Val. 

Angel headed downstairs and parked Fat Nuggets with Husk. Charlie, dutiful as ever, tried to stop him. 

"Sorry princess. This is how I get my redemption," Angel assured her and made a promise to come back. It was a promise he couldn't keep. He headed out to the street and waited for his cab. He was tapping away at his phone. Sending messages. When the sleek electric car pulled up to the curb, Angel paused to give the hotel one last glance. 

_ It was fun while it lasted.  _

He got in and rode across town. 

When he made it to his destination he did what he did best. He seduced. He plied his mark with drink. And when he was satisfied with his work of intoxicating his John, and that he wouldn't notice that anything was amiss, Angel propped up his phone and pressed record. 

He gave a good show, took his client for a wild ride. Sure, no cash had changed hands, but Angel would get everything he wanted out of tonight. He was bathed in a cyan glow as he rode his John hard and moaned confessions of love and adoration. And his John played right into his hand. 

_ "That's right, Angel. He's scum. We're better off together, aren't we? You and me… we'll take over the studio and give the people what they really want." _

__ "Oh yeah, Voxxy, baby… who needs him. I'm all yours…"

Once Vox was passed out, Angel made himself a brand new account and suddenly… The only thing hell was talking about was Angel Dust's leaked sex tape. The biggest upset in months. Valentino and Vox were breaking up, and there would be hellfire. Angel knew he'd get swept up in it, but it didn't matter. Val and Vox would try and destroy each other and then… 

Then maybe Angel could get one peaceful night of sleep. 

He slipped out of Vox' place while he was still passed out and found a shitty hotel to hole up in. One text to Cherri and he was in heaven. High as a kite, forgetting the consequences in favor of soaking up his elation that he'd done it. He'd found his way to be powerful. 

Two days later and Valentino and Vox were publicly at each other's throats. Angel had sowed the seeds of their undoing and he counted down the days until Valentino's anger was turned toward him. He couldn't hide forever. 

It was playing on every news station. His tape. The fallout. Val even broke Vox' screen in a fight while Angel hid away from hell. 

"Damn Angie," Cherri commented as they watched the chaos unfold. 

"I had one card to play."

"Why'd ya do it?" 

"Who knows…"

Angel felt free for the first time in decades and he enjoyed it right up until Valentino's goons found him, and he wound up back at the burnt out shell of a studio. One last public shaming. 

Angel didn't fight it. 

" _ You got some nerve pullin' a stunt like this. Humiliatin' me… I'm gonna make sure that you're strapped to the roof when the next extermination rolls around. You'll be the first to go and until then… you're workin' the corner for me, or I'll make you wish you could die twice right now _ ."

And Angel complied. Vox faded into obscurity for the time being, and Angel worked the corners. Every night. He sank into that numbness and let it make him invincible. 

* * *

Charlie sighed at the news report playing out on the screen. 

"Vaggie, have you seen this?" 

Husk was drinking behind the bar, idly playing with Fat Nuggets and Vaggie was looking over express reports. She glanced up at the screen and saw the defeat of Charlie's expression reflected on the screen as the news of Angel rolled on by and updates of the new war between Val and Vox came in. 

"I… I don't get it. Why would he do this?" Charlie pleaded. Vaggie shook her head. 

"Some people can't be helped, Charlie."

"No he said… He said this is how he'd find redemption, there's gotta be… more to it."

"Charlie, he's not coming back… It's not your fault. You just gotta… Let this one go."

Husk's ears twitched. 

"Goddamnit you mean I'm stuck with this thing?" he gestured to Fat Nuggets who was curled up in the bar, trying to nibble at Husk's fingers. Charlie frowned irritably in Husk's direction but it wavered. She sagged in defeat. 

"I… Maybe you're right. Maybe… Maybe I failed him."

“‘the fuck have you been?” Husk asked once an overdue Alastor arrived, gracing the rest of the lobby with a presence they hadn’t felt in days. He leaned up onto the bar on his elbows and cast an irritated glare in the radio demon’s direction. It appeared that Alastor had acquired  _ nerve _ in order to walk down into the hotel lobby as casually as he did.

“ _ Around _ , Husker, my boy! Why do you ask?” he replied jovially, beginning to look around the room and observe a sea of weary faces. “Did I miss something?” A laugh track followed soon after. It was apparent that Alastor had indeed missed something that he wasn’t exactly privy to.

“You’ve been gone for  _ days! _ ” Vaggie exclaimed, gesturing alongside Charlie. “First, Angel leaves, then--” and as she continued, Alastor casted a sidelong glance up towards the television and paused, only to then quickly bring it back down again.

Quite enough of  _ that _ .

After the way their paths had parted from one another, Alastor never would have guessed he’d see Angel again like this-- emblazoned on a television screen and violated however gruesomely Valentino saw fit in another clip replayed. It was true that his presence was lacking, but he’d found a way to occupy his time, mostly frustrated at himself and enraged by a situation that had been plucked out from his control.

So much so, that one night, an entire floor of the Hotel had been completely relieved of its stock of window glass. The foundations of the building rattled with it. Alastor’s frustration had peaked and then dwindled down into bittersweet remorse-- except Vaggie’s furious unloading was beginning to stoke it again with the mention of Vox and all of the other indiscretions that had come to pass.

“Are you even listening to me?” Vaggie asked angrily, staring at Alastor as his attention drifted. “This can’t keep happening!”

“Absolutely!” Alastor said in turn, reaching his hand out into empty air and plucking a long handled microphone out from thin air. What Angel had done, he was still processing, but he was very certain of what it all meant.

An apology.

And Alastor wasn’t going to let it go unheard.

“Somehow I doubt that,” Charlie interjected with defeat.

“Nonsense! You’ve simply provided me with the revelation I needed in order to figure out what I’m going to do next!”

“Oh yeah, and what’s that?” Husk rolled his eyes and slumped even harder against the bar top.

“I’m so glad you asked!” Alastor singsonged over the pop of a microphone. He wrapped an arm around Charlie’s shoulders theatrically and gestured out in front of them. “I’m going to do what I should have done a long time ago, my dear.”

“Which is?” Charlie asked, eyeing Husk. Alastor was building suspense, but it was hardly desired amongst the crowd.

“Why, I’m going to set the record straight and _... _ ” he began, clenching the air in front of him with his microphone in hand. Alastor’s eyes began to glow with menace and he leaned down into Charlie’s personal space. The radio transmission ended and he spoke dangerously low in his register.

“ _ Burn it all down _ ,” Alastor finished, turning to Charlie with quickly diminishing menace. “By the end of tonight, why-- I dare say you’ll never have to worry about Angel falling into trouble ever again!”

“Al--”

“ _ Ah-ah-ah _ ,” he tutted, waving a hand in the air between them. “Don’t you worry,” and he poked her on the nose with a delighted grin. A grin that hinted towards a night of decadent ultraviolence.

“I’ll be back with our dear Angel Dust come morning,” he reassured before sinking into the floor.

* * *

_ Tap, tap. _

“Is this thing on?” Alastor asked into the camera lense with a daring amount of charisma. He laughed with self-pleasure and reeled himself in, stepping into focus on a camera that had been fixed on a tantalizing display of abhorrent eroticism.

“Of course it is!” he clapped a hand to his chest and posed charmingly off center of the frame. “Did you know that television rots the brain and gives you zany, wacky ideas? Absolute poppycock!” Alastor expeditiously asked with equally fervent hand gestures. He was sure that he’d be bum rushed by the large horned camera assistant in a matter of time but he was quick with his delivery. Alastor gestured at the one camera and it shorted out, a puff of grey smoke billowing out from the back.

“And you there-- stop that. Didn’t your mother ever tell you doing  _ that  _ makes you go blind?” Another laugh track. Alastor knew what kind of thing audiences got up to. He gestured towards another as he began to walk towards the last piece of filming equipment. Another camera down.

“Now that I have your attention, I would like to remind you all of one simple truth: that in radio, nothing ever happens until the announcer says it happens!” which seemed oddly placed, but Alastor was a fool for a good opener.

“That being said, ladies and gentleman,” Alastor pulled the head of his microphone close to his mouth and he leaned into view, the image beginning to static, pixelate and short out.

“ _ Your move _ ,” and he didn’t have to say whose it was, but judging by the bodies and the rampant fire that ripped through Valentino’s studio, anyone could hazard a guess and be right.

Alastor abandoned his work at the emblazoned studio, instead favoring his next target:  _ Vox _ . Angel had primed the charge and they were both weak, going at each other like they were. The time to move was now and in his tracks he’d carve a path of destruction and horror behind. He had hoped that the more he demolished in his quest to devastate the both of them shifted their focus from any previously employed retaliation, which was singularly focused on Angel. Although he was an important motivator behind the chaos he created, Alastor couldn’t help but selfishly enjoy himself.

It had simply been too long since he cut loose like this.

* * *

_ "A new player has entered the ongoing war between Porn Studio head, Valentino, and our own Lord of Electronics, Vox! The Radio Demon himself has come to throw his hat into the ring! What an upset!"  _

_ "You said it, Katie! Vox was last seen entering Vox Multimedia two nights ago. Will this be The Radio Demon's next target? Stay tuned. We'll be bringing you all the updates here on 666 News!" _

Angel watched the story play out on a television screen in the window of a shop as he hugged his fur trimmed coat tighter around himself. Everything was playing out according to plan. Alastor had seen the opening and was taking it. Angel felt a little relief that somehow he'd made things right. At least, as right as he could. He turned his face away, the image of Alastor's threatening presence still at the forefront of his mind as he walked the streets, trying to entice a client for the night. 

Vox Multimedia loomed in the distance and there was smoke billowing from the Porn Studios. This was all anyone was talking about. Angel's phone chimed from his cost pocket. He stopped on the corner and pulled it out to take a look. He'd been a popular person to text as of late. Anyone who had his number or followed his media was vying for his attention. There was an email from the 666 News. They wanted an interview. He responded with ease, agreeing, with very little thought to what they'd offered to pay him. He'd take it. It was too good an opportunity to pass up. He added it to his schedule as another message came through. 

Vox. Vox was begging for his company. Angel knew why. He was hoping to put Angel in the line of fire between himself and Alastor. He was panicking. He'd been had by Angel and so had Val. Angel knew his days were numbered, so he politely declined, with the excuse of needing to try and save his own skin by working for Val. Angel didn't want to stand in the way of Alastor's path of destruction. He didn't need to be there. That wasn't the point. 

Some part of him ached at the thought that he might never see Alastor in person again. He sighed and lowered his phone, and suddenly realized there was a limo parked in front of him. It was sleek and black with purple embellishments. The window rolled down and Angel leaned into the car. 

"Hey, baby. Lookin' for a good time?" 

The words were out before he registered just who he was talking to. Angel's eyes widened as he stared down the client. 

" _ Get in, Anthony. We need to talk. _ "

"Yes, your majesty."

Angel slipped into the back of the limo and it pulled away from the curb, carrying him off to the highest hill in hell. Angel straightened in his seat as he tried to keep his eyes trained straight ahead. 

"Quite a display. You've made quick work of the overlords. At each other's throats in an instant."

"I didn't--" 

A sharp movement, a hand raised to silence Angel. He swallowed a knot in his throat. 

"You did. It was clever. Artful, even. Color me impressed. Of course, I can't simply let this incident go unpunished, you realize."

Angel closed his eyes and tensed. So this was it. This was how it ended. In the back of a limo, ended by the King himself. 

"So the question I have for you, is just which one should take the fall for you?" 

Angel's eyes snapped open and his head whipped around to look at Lucifer. His eyes widened as he was faced with an amused, toothy grin. 

"I don't understand."

"I think that you do."

"What am I gonna ow ya?" 

"You're part of my daughter's pet project. As is The Radio Demon. I have a vested interest in both of these things."

Angel sighed as he thought back to his human life. He'd been down this road before. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 

"You want me ta start peachin' for ya."

Lucifer's sharp nailed hand closed around Angel's knee, giving it a squeeze. 

"See. I knew you weren't just a pretty face. My wife and I are concerned for Charlotte, but she's a stubborn girl. And Alastor… Well…"

As Lucifer trailed off all of Alastor's recent carnage had come to mind. The limo stopped in the driveway of Lucifer's manor. Angel looked up at the towering structure. 

"Until all this blows over, you'll be under my protection. But I'll leave it up to you who I deem the guilty party for this mess. Valentino, Vox, or Alastor?" 

Angel thought back to his conversation with Alastor. He'd backed him into a corner once and taken away his choice. He wouldn't do it a second time. Vox was his for the taking. 

"Val. He forced my hand. It's his fault. He's ta blame."

"Very well. I've already sent for your things. My servants will take you inside and see that you're comfortable while I deal with the smutlord. And when all is said and done you will return to the hotel and inform me of everything that goes on there from here on out. Are we clear?"

"Yes, your majesty."

Angel stepped out of the limo and let himself be lead inside. He watched Lucifer pull away and wondered just what all this would come to be. Somehow, Angel was now an informant for the King himself. He wondered if this would be any better than his work for Valentino. 

Having hope was far too dangerous.

* * *

“Did you hear the one about the two TV antennas that fell in love and got married?” Alastor quipped, strolling down the avenue that cut through the backlot of Vox’s Multimedia complex. Eldritch horrors whipped, snapped and swallowed. Entire buildings were inhaled into gaping voids beneath the depths of hell and where any of them ended up, even Alastor didn’t know. The news coverage and helicopters streamed the havoc live, but any attempt to capture Alastor’s face was corrupted by something too sinister to be caught.

“The ceremony wasn’t great, but the reception was fantastic!” he said with a profoundly wild smile. Audience laughter ripped across the radio waves. Everyone tuning in was getting an earful of entertainment and everyone watching was getting an eyeful. He skipped into a step and lined up a golf swing with the head of his handheld microphone.

Everywhere was on fire. Screams, chaos and alarms rang in the distance and Alastor thrived for the first time in a  _ long  _ time… He lined up behind a car--  _ Vox’s _ car.

“Ladies and gentleman, he’s lining it up for the last hole of the back nine,” he said in a hushed tone, building a playful suspense in his broadcast. He swung, batting the entire car up into the air and over a great distance. He gazed out into the distance, his fingers resting above his eyebrow as he watched it disappear into the murky skyline.

“I believe he’s done it, folks! What a miracle! A - hole - in -  _ one! _ ” he cried, clenching his fist in front of himself. Calling all of this simple satisfaction wouldn’t even begin to cover how incredibly pleased he was with all of it. What a beautiful, wretched display of utter domination. Alastor was bordering on unhinged.

He had shown a modicum of restraint with Valentino and his studio, but Vox--  _ no _ .

That simply wouldn’t happen.

Their rivalry was too old and established.

He stalked the inferno blazing around him, stepping over rubble and viscera as his horns continued to split into monstrous racks. Bright red lights that were sunk into the hollows of Alastor’s skull casted a warm and dangerous glow onto the decimated lot he traversed. The radio demon was haunting, nightmarish and gaunt. The chase thrilled him. Plotting, planning, and preparing-- figuring out how to best terrify and titillate the prey that he stalked.

A delight that blessed him in life as much as it did in death-- and why he was down here in the first place.

A killer.

A real one-- with moxie and a real passion for the chase.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are…” he called, his voice splitting into several tones over static and feedback.

In a penthouse office, Vox watched. Every screen on the walls gave him a different angle and they blinked out as Alastor made easy work of his complex. His screen was cracked and he clutched the phone in his hand a little tighter. No word from Angel, who'd made all this happen, no hope of escape from Alastor's cruel wake. Everything he'd built was crumbling. He wouldn't go down without a fight. On his computer screen there were floods of comments on the chaos and carnage. Alastor may have been powerful. Godlike, even. But he was  _ dated.  _ And Vox would be sure to find a way to show that, at the very least. 

He flicked his wrist and the halls of the complex were suddenly alight with lazer fire. Every beam aimed for Alastor and his shadowy presence, cutting through tentacles where they could. The demon himself seemed untouchable, but Vox knew that wasn't true. No one was truly untouchable. 

He aired a broadcast of his own. 

"Hello, Alastor."

Every screen in his complex reflected his technological Visage. 

"You must be very proud of yourself, coming at me when you know I've already fought Valentino. A coward's move."

Screens broke and crackled. Exploding along Alastor's path. If Alastor truly wanted this showdown to happen, then he'd oblige. He stood from his desk, shuddering at the effort it took. 

"I should have known you'd wait until someone had softened me up first. You poorly, aging, outdated…"

He clenched his fist and the doors to his office slid open with a mechanical whir and slam. 

"Washed up…  _ Has-been. _ "

Hundreds of beams of light focused on the entrance to his office and Vox waited. This was it. The culmination of their rivalry.

Alastor burst through, the doorway too small for the sinewy behemoth.

The wall crumbled and the foundation of Vox’s empire whined in agony at Alastor’s intrusion. He stood there, a demagogue of destruction, facing down the rival that had plagued him shortly after his own arrival in hell. Television was only hearsay back when Alastor was above-- nothing like this. Not this glowing tower of technological progress.

Yes, maybe he  _ was _ outdated, but he was a personification-- a pillar of human progress. Radio was far reaching, farther than television.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you,” the multi-layered scratch of Alastor’s charismatic tenor rattled the walls of Vox’s office as he stood there triumphantly. His head tilted to the left and then suddenly to the right, bones shifted against bones and the scrapes and pops were audible over the din of the crackling wasteland. 

“Television contracts the imagination,” Alastor added, beginning to approach Vox with a towering menace. The length of his microphone evaporated and his claws began to grow, arcing towards his palms in a hellish display of horror. He was primed to pounce. Drawing the life out of Vox would be sweet-- orgasmic, even in Alastor’s case.

“Radio  _ expands  _ it.”

Alastor lunged.

Vox felt the tension in the air building, like an electrical storm brewing as he formed guns from the many screens in his office and turned them all on Alastor. He was ready to fire. Ready to  _ fight.  _

Blazing bright white light burst in the center of the room, enveloping everything. Vox shielded himself from it with his arms as Alastor was swallowed up in the sudden sun-like presence. As the light faded, there was a figure between them, and Alastor's claws were deep in a cream suit, drawing blood. A beaming face peered at the radio demon with a menacing glee that only Alastor had ever come close to matching. 

Vox stumbled backward, collapsing against his desk and crumpling to the floor. Lucifer posed his hands in such a way that it looked as though he was going to sweep Alastor up into a waltz. As dust settled and quiet fell over the room, Lucifer let his presence speak volumes. 

_ Enough.  _

Carefully, he pried Alastor's claws from his suit and took his hand, the other coming to rest at his waist as he spun and dipped the radio demon, face mere inches from Alastor's own. 

"Breaking the rules again, I see. Your charm is fading,  _ deer _ . Save the ugliness for after the next cleanse," Lucifer released Alastor unceremoniously and dusted himself off. The bloodied holes in his suit closing and cleaning themselves as he did so. 

"I do believe Alastor has won this round, Vox. You'd do well to keep that in mind," he turned and hopped up to take a seat on Vox' desk, tapping his fingertips against the cracked surface. 

"Now. Clean this mess up, boys. I have a pimp to humiliate and no time for further chicanery," Lucifer lifted his fingers and snapped. Just like that, his presence was gone. 

Vox pushed himself to his feet, shaking from head to toe as he cast a glare in Alastor's direction. Somehow, Alastor had sunk claws into the King himself and would live to tell the tale. Hell was never fair. 

"Get out," he crackled like a busted speaker. 

Valentino was stripped of his clothes and tossed unceremoniously off the roof the the porn studios mere moments later and all talk of Alastor's Assault was lost in the wake of Lucifer's appearance. 

" _ Instigating a bloodbath like this over some trivial whore is beneath an Overlord. I hope that is clear to every single one of you watching. _ "

That was all he said. Then it was back to the ivory tower once more. Angel felt the sting of those words, but it faded quickly. Things had escalated beyond his expectations. Lucifer kept him locked away for a few more days as the buzz died down, and then sent him on his way back to the Hazbin Hotel. But not without a new phone. One with only his number in it. And a stipend of cash to cover his expenses now that his career at the studio was over. 

" _ You could make your own way, you know. You're clever enough. And I know your background. Just remember who you belong to, and you won't have any problems. _ "

**_Yes, your majesty._ **

Charlie was devastated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this. The next update will be coming sooner rather than later to keep things moving forward! Thanks again for your support!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we continue... I hope you all are enjoying this so far. And I hope you really... really enjoy this chapter. C;

Alastor, who had never known a moment that he couldn’t find a retort to, fell silent. The presence that had nearly blinded him and collected the blow meant for Vox-- he almost didn’t believe his own eyes.

_ Lucifer _ .

.. and now, he  _ had  _ him.

The antlered demon was reigned in, taken off his feet from one of the few beings in Hell that would have been able to do so. Alastor’s demonic visage contracted-- swept off his feet and made humble from the hand at the small of his back. He stared up at him with a wracked smile, breathless. Red eyes that once burned like wildfire receded into a dull glow as he looked at the perfectly hued cheeks that in proximity heated his own.

Alastor, subdued and berated, had  _ nothing  _ to say.

The King of Hell receded, relinquishing the lead in their dance for a position at Vox’s desk. Alastor righted himself, attempting to find his poise after being suddenly knocked off his warpath.  _ Ruffled _ . He buttoned his suit coat and cast a sidelong glance at the floor before finding eye contact with Lucifer once again-- who stated his victory and a few terms that needed to be met.

It was a victory that didn’t satiate him, but...

Lucifer had indeed made himself clear. 

Alastor met Vox’s irritation with a pleased grin once Lucifer made his exit. He twirled the microphone in his hand and dipped at the waist towards the broken television,  _ deeply _ . It was arrogant and self-serving. Another way to gloat.

It wasn’t the triumph he desired, but the ruler of Hell himself crowned Alastor a victor, and he wasn’t about to let Vox forget it. He barked his broken command at Alastor and he was more than happy to acquiesce.

Leaving was for the best.

“My! What a mess you have to clean up for yourself!” he said, maniacal in his smile. “Good luck to you…”

Alastor cast a threatening glare in Vox’s direction.

“ **_Darling_ ** .”

* * *

The only apology he needed to provide was to Charlie upon his arrival. He hadn’t returned with Angel in tow as he had promised, but he  _ did  _ return from a much quieter Hell. Although he had set out on total war, the after effects made the denizens of Hell appreciate the quieter moments that relieved them from their suffering.

“ _ Oho--hooo _ , lemme tell ya’, you are in the  _ deepest  _ of deep shits, buddy,” Husk offered, beaming with casual and morbid glee. He had been eating up Vaggie’s threats and Alastor was the focus of her ire. Alastor had said he was going to fix the situation, not make it worse.

“Now, now,” Alastor replied with a smug smile, unphased by the threat of Vaggie’s wrath. “That’s quite enough out of  _ you _ .” The way he carried himself was full of self-satisfied preening. He slipped off his coat and let it dissipate into thin air. He glanced at the nails on his right hand and perched himself onto a vacant stool.

Oh, that display? That was  _ nothing _ ...

“Yeah, yeah. I know that look. You really stuck it to ‘em, didn’t ya’?” Husk asked, already busy with making Alastor’s usual. There was a faint amusement he shared with Alastor in all of this. The television had been alight with all of the drama.

“ _ Did I? _ ” he asked, leaning on with his elbows and posing himself ontop of one of his closed fists. Alastor was so  _ incredibly  _ pleased.

“Cool it down, will ya’? Don’t know how much I can take of that pompous bullshit smile you’re wearin’ right now,” Husk said with a head shake and playful eye roll. He poured out his drink into a glass and leaned against the bar, unable to admit that he was relieved to see the familiar face back in the Lobby.

It was good to be  home back.

* * *

Angel had stalled all day, going out of his way to find reasons to avoid going back. The weight of a second phone in his pocket made him nervous. Behind a pair of sunglasses with his head tucked under a blush pink hoodie, he shuffled around the downtown center and treated himself to a manicure and a new dress. It didn't make him feel better. Late night creeped up on him and he found himself getting takeout from a hole in the wall. It was Cajun Creole style food. He didn't want to linger on why he'd made that choice. 

He missed Alastor's cooking. 

When he made it back to the hotel he was hopeful that everyone would be asleep. He'd stalled long enough. He couldn't stand to see their faces right now, which was becoming quite the pattern. That, and Angel now bore the weight of new employment. Lucifer's words kicked around inside his head the whole way back until he stepped over the threshold. He felt an ache in his chest as he looked at the familiar lobby and realized how much he'd come to not just need, but like this place. It held a comfort he hadn't realized he'd been missing until he'd been locked up in a sterile guest room in Lucifer's palace. 

He made his way to the bar and set his food down on its surface. He took a careful seat on one of the stools as if it might disappear on him. He was home. He exhaled a sigh of relief and dropped down on the bar, pushing the hood off his head while his second set of hands dropped his shopping on the ground beside him. He lit a cigarette and just basked. He took it all in. Somehow he'd survived and Valentino was off his back. He was free of that cycle. Still… 

He'd said no to Alastor for a reason. 

Lucifer had taken the option of "No" away from him entirely. Angel pulled the Styrofoam container of jambalaya from the bag and popped it open, picking at it idly as he smoked his cigarette and settled back into the hotel. Lucifer was a problem he'd deal with later. For now, he just wanted to enjoy this moment. This tiny victory of his own. He'd outplayed two overlords and was still in one piece. 

_ You're clever enough.  _

Maybe he was.

_ ‘Hmm,’ _ the radio transmitted tenor danced through the air before the source of it physically manifested. “ _ I believe the phrase I’ve been looking for was _ ,” and he theatrically turned around a pillar of the bar into view.  _ Dancing in the Rain _ . There was a calm flush to his cheeks and his feet carried him like Fred Astaire behind the bar.

“ _ We have got to stop meeting like this _ , don’t we?” Alastor asked, hands already busy in the well of bottles behind the aged wood. Cloud nine wouldn’t have even been close. No. The ninth circle, however, was a bit closer to explaining Alastor’s delight. He’d felt Angel arrive through the magic he employed in order to keep the Hotel operating, but it was the smell that finally did it in for him. Alastor was playing it cool, wrapping himself up in the libations of the late night.

Except--

He reeked of  _ chocolate _ .

_ Chocolate  _ and  _ cognac _ .

“Did you ever hear the one about the alcoholic medium?” he asked, twisting the rind of a lemon into his drink.

“He made all of the spirits disappear!” Alastor quipped with transatlantic laughter, taking a sip of his drink and reclining against the late night edge of the bar. The segue trailed out by the chortle of a studio audience and he turned his gaze carefully onto Angel. It was amiable, and Alastor decided to tread lightly on this territory-- but he simply had to  _ know _ .

“And just where have you been,  _ my dear? _ ”

Play dumb.

Angel felt his fur prickling as it began to stand on end. His peaceful moment was brought to a close as Alastor appeared, as he did. He seemed downright chipper, and not in the way that hid rage and carnage Angel had cone to know so well. Alastor was full of warmth and laughter and... Apparently a really bad joke. Angel's face crumpled into a sad smile as he watched Alastor make himself at home so comfortably. The final missing piece. A late night encounter. He boldly reached out and squeezed Alastor's bicep.

"Nice to see you, too, presentatore."

The question, however, made every bit of happiness Angel felt wither away almost instantly. Where had he been? He glanced around and leaned closer. He wanted to tell the truth. He wanted to lie. He wanted to know if Alastor had forgiven him. He wanted to go back in time and undo all of this. If only he'd said yes weeks ago, then maybe... Maybe he wouldn't feel this way. Maybe his heart wouldn't be in his throat, choking him. 

Angel shook his head. 

"Not here, Al. Not... Not private enough."

He realized his hand was still resting on Alastor and he yanked it away, flushing as he turned away, rubbing the back of his neck as he hoped the lingering touch wouldn't be an offense worthy of disrupting Alastor's good mood. Angel's attention turned back to his food, pushing it around with a fork. It wasn't as good as Alastor's. He'd been spoiled already by the authenticity of home cooking.

"I'll tell ya... I promise. Just not... In the Lobby."

He was still toying with the idea of honesty or lying. Lucifer could end them both, but his heart ached to just tell the goddamn truth for a change. 

“Ahh,  _ well then! _ ” Alastor quipped emphatically, circling around to take up Angle’s side. “It appears that the both of us have a  _ wealth  _ of knowledge to hide  _ and  _ divulge...” He balanced his glass in his palm, his two free fingers-- his index and middle took up space beneath Angel’s chin and tilted it up to face his-- Alastor leaned in.

“So then,  _ why  _ don’t we go back to  _ my  _ room _ , hmm? _ ” Alastor’s radio chatter began to fade as his voice sunk into something more real--  _ darker _ . He had purred lowly, dangerously charismatic within the spatial heat of Angel’s face. He waited for a few breaths to be exchanged until he suddenly shrunk out of Angel’s space to turn away. He was liquored up and animated. Alastor was in a  _ fine  _ mood.

The way he had handled their shared space was forward, but everything that Alastor ever did was that way-- except that it was worse when he was imbibing.

“Come! This way, I’m sure you’ll find yourself a grand time!” he chirped, leading Angel up a flight of stairs that seemed to climb far higher than they should have.

Upon opening the door, the room was warmly lit with electric candles ablaze. The wallpaper was adorned in maroon and dark oak trim. Nature and deer motifs colored the expanse of lusciousness. Weapons of all shapes and sizes adorned the walls-- axes, cleavers, guns--  _ scythes.  _ Alastor was a  _ connoisseur _ . He’d never let anyone up into the floor he occupied because he needed an  _ entire  _ one. His endeavors were too sprawling for a single room.

Dinner and his purchases were long forgotten as Angel followed along behind Alastor. He could still feel the lingering heat in his cheeks from the close proximity. The returned casual touch. Was this forgiveness? Or was it the beginning of the end. It was difficult to tell with Alastor. That’d be a laugh, huh? Finally feeling like he’d done something good (which was a relative term here, but that wasn’t the point) only to find himself with apparently  _ several  _ sharp implements pinning him to the walls of Alastor’s room like a trophy. Angel took a sweeping glance and was slightly surprised at how lush everything was. He’d half expected a bleak boiler room like setting where Alastor never slept and only schemed. 

Once they were securely within the walls of Alastor’s domain, Angel wrapped his arms around himself and braced for what came next. He couldn’t make eye contact. He couldn’t bring himself to step closer. He stayed near the doorway as he made a choice that might ultimately lead to a very slow, painful death. Of all the people he’d ever know, and demons he’d ever met, Alastor was the first he felt morally compelled not to lie to. Maybe it was the familiarity of his cadence, the way he treated Angel as if he was not some mere commodity for monetary gain. Alastor had come to his aid, tried to give him some breathing room from everything that had been holding him down so…

“After… After what I did I wanted to do somethin’ ta make it right. At least a little. So… So after I exposed Vox and got him an’ Val at each other’s throats, I hid out for a while. Val… Val found me and I worked the corner for ‘im. Said he was gonna strap me to the roof of the studio for the next cleanse,” Angel laughed, hollow and brief as he tensed up further. This was the part that he dreaded. Telling Alastor he had been working for Val wasn’t the issue. Val was a smear in a hospital bed somewhere. No…

“But when… When you went afta’ Val and Vox, I… I was cool with it. Val could do what he wanted. Didn’ matta’ anymore. I just wanted ta… square things up. Ya know?”

Angel ran the fingers of both primary hands through his hair and covered his face with his secondary set. The words were caught in his throat. He felt like his legs might give out. Alastor could react many different ways, but Angel had come this far. He sighed and all his arms dropped to hang limply at his side. 

“Lucifer picked me up while you were blowin’ up the studio. Pulled me off the street ta make me an’ offer I couldn’t refuse.”

Angel sighed heavily and tucked his lower arms into the pocket of his hoodie. 

“He asked me who should take the blame for the whole mess. Val, Vox, or you. I think it’s obvious who I chose. An’ now… now he wants me to be his personal snitch. Peachin’ on everything goin’ on here. Mentioned Charlie a’course… And you.”

Angel shifted from foot to foot uneasily, realizing he’d just dumped a lot of information in Alastor’s lap, and one particular piece was dangerous for Angel to share. It made one thing abundantly clear, and Angel hoped he wouldn’t regret it. He trusted Alastor. As much as one demon could trust another given the situation. 

“So yeah… that’s… that’s where I’ve been.”

“ _ Well _ , what an  _ interesting  _ turn of events,” he replied, metering his response. It lied somewhere in between his usual charismatic response and something else.  _ Scrutiny _ . He rounded one of his high backed chairs, a blackened hand trailing along the back of it until it rested along the crest of one of its arches as he digested Angel’s words. It would have been a beautiful pose if someone had been seated in it-- but the emptiness was stifling.

A  _ hole _ .

Physical  _ and  _ metaphorical-- one that he hadn’t had before.

Alastor rescinded his position and walked back to lean over the top of it, his arms crossed lazily over one another as he gazed over at Angel Dust. He was processing. In one hand he held the rim of his glass and in the other, he held  _ tension _ . Alastor didn’t exactly know how to gather his thoughts. Lucifer had bought Angel out, but-- somewhere in the midst of it-- he felt strangely  _ inferior _ . Alastor knew that he could have provided just as much… except--

There was so much  _ entanglement _ .

He was careful not to let his face fall too drastically as he broke eye contact with Angel. Alastor leaned to his right, his left shoulder falling as his right raised. He tucked his chin against it as he looked away. The hidden side of his face pulling tight into a deep well of thought.

He marinated in his moment of confliction-- scrambling to understand all that had wound up in his lap. It was ridiculous to feel this way, to feel indebted to Angel for his in, amidst a wealth of other things-- paving a way for his revenge and carnage. The ache in his chest that longed for synchronicity.

Alastor embraced Angel.

Of all the things that could have happened, this was not what Angel expected. Alastor’s arms around him, pressing in, and holding on. He held his breath, every inch of him tense at first. Slowly, he allowed himself to exhale, the shock in his chest dissipated, and all four arms wound around Alastor in turn. Angel was overly familiar with his touch. Arms around Alastor’s waist, another around his shoulders, and the last, curling into the hair at the nape of his neck. He held on and silently existed in what was possibly the most comforting gesture he’d received since he was a child. Alastor’s warmth radiated between them, and Angel buried his face against Alastor’s shoulder, his own slumped to make up for the difference in height. 

He didn’t want to let go. Ever. He wanted this to continue for as long as possible, in the hopes that he could escape the future by existing in this moment, and this moment alone. Some small voice told him he should be waiting for the knife in his back, but other thoughts prevailed. Ones that told him he was forgiven. Things were far more complicated than they had any right to be. Lucifer was involved now. Everything had begun to spiral out of control, but Angel was suddenly able to let that all go in favor of focusing on this. 

On Alastor. 

_ Fuck. _

Angel came to an unpleasant realization. One that complicated things further. One that he would bury and not voice aloud. He was getting attached. 

To the goddamn Radio Demon, Alastor, terrifying, cannibal, cheesy joke making, fluffy tailed  _ fuck-- _

Angel slowly lifted his head and searched for Alastor’s eyes. Their red glow in the dimness drew him in, but Angel stopped short, reminding himself that he couldn’t act rashly. He closed his eyes and tried to break the spell. He had to say something. Anything that didn’t reveal just how dangerous this had become for Angel. Emotions were insidious things. They often wormed to the surface, one way or another. Angel may have just been delaying the inevitable, but he could try.

“I… I’m sorry, Al… I wanted ta say no. I really did, but… Can’t refuse the king, right?”

At least Alastor knew. And if that meant he retreated from Angel to protect himself, then so be it. At least Angel could have a little peace of mind in knowing he didn’t fuck Alastor over to save his own skin twice.

“Why don’t we stop asking questions for the night?” he proposed with a placid smirk, happy to be bereft of his drink as he clutched Angel within his arms. The tone of his voice was soft and personal, like what was heard so many years ago over late night radio waves. A soft tune cut through the air from an old tombstone radio that situated itself on top of a cabinet inside Alastor’s room. He easily met Angel’s gaze, searching carefully before pulling away to a more manageable distance between their faces.

__ _ ♪ I hear music when I look at you _

_ A beautiful theme of every dream I ever knew ♫ _

“Or perhaps one more, if you’d allow it?” Alastor asked, carefully placing one of Angel’s hands into one of his own. If there were only more words--

\-- and less…  _ nonsense _ .

__ _ ♪ I hear music when I touch your hand _

_ A beautiful melody from some enchanted land ♫ _

“I knew what you had done had meant, Angel,” Alastor tried, brushing the pad of his thumb over the back of his hand and warming it. Angel was so magnificently soft and Alastor paused to admire it. The display of warm reverence on his face was damning. He plucked his own attention from the rare delicacy that Angel was and put it back onto the mismatched eyes that rested at his own collar after a lengthy moment.

As Lucifer was in Heaven…

.. that was  **_dangerous_ ** .

__ _ ♪ Why can't I let it go? Why can't I let you know? _

_ Why can't I let you know the song my heart would sing? ♫ _

“... and the fault is my own for putting you in such a precarious position in the first place,” Alastor confessed, running his fingers up the ridge of Angel’s spine until the flat of his hand pressed against his back comfortably. It was an apology of his own, but he failed to find the words and courage to say it exactly-- even  _ if  _ his breath spoke of cognac and Angel’s gifted chocolate.

_ ♪ The music is sweet and the words are true _

_ The song is you ♫ _

“ _ So-- _ ” he interrupted himself, raking his eyes over Angel’s face. “If you’d allow me--”

One last question, like he mentioned before.

“May I have the rest of this dance with you?”

The song was all too familiar. For these few brief moments, Angel felt less like a demon in hell and more like the man he was before. Sharing such a private and intimate moment with Alastor, feeling hands that could cause such destruction touching him so gently, guiding him into place for a dance. It was surreal. Alastor understood the importance of Angel's gesture and had taken it to heart. Everything else could wait. His feet remembered the way this worked. His body carefully crowded against Alastor's own swayed slightly. 

"Yeah… you may," Angel as agreed. He let himself get swept up in the motions of a dance with Alastor. The weight of Alastor's hands on him made his lead easy to follow. They were two relics of the same Era. Alastor had gone fourteen years before Angel, but the overlap in Angel's formative years gave them something he'd taken for granted until this moment. They had common ground from a time before hell. 

He lost himself in Alastor's rhythm, dancing through the remainder of the song. When it came to a close he didn't want to let go. He didn't want distance between them. He held on a little longer, pressing against Alastor to embrace him again. Cheek to cheek, fingers clinging all over as he tried to make sense of his feelings in this moment. 

"Al… We… Are we… I know ya said no more questions but I need ta know…"

Angel was so damn vulnerable he couldn't stand it. 

"Are we in this t'gether?" 

_ Can I trust you with everything?  _

It was only fair for Angel to have one last inquiry, just the same as Alastor. He certainly made it count, too.  _ Togetherness _ . It was a possibility that he hadn’t been entertaining-- not outright. It definitely looked like it the more Alastor looked at it, however. They had done a fair amount for one another in shaking up Hell.

Yes, together was definitely what this looked like--  _ felt  _ like.

“Angel-- _ I _ ” and he struggled, the corner of his own mouth getting caught in between sharp teeth. Nervousness was right at the forefront.

Alastor pulled away far enough to get Angel within view, to look at him and search his face for the answer he struggled to conjure up.

He looked away, no more shy than he wouldn’t have been stone cold sober. Not many things were difficult for Alastor, but admissions of devotion didn’t come easy. It was simpler to mask it with a deal or a clever remark. Togetherness was a choice the heart made and for Alastor, the chill around his own was diminishing to the point where he was dangerously entertaining it.

“I believe we are already,” Alastor confessed, pressing his forehead against Angel’s-- relenting against the way he wanted to lose himself within the other’s orbit. He held one of Angel’s hands in his own and he selfishly tilted his face to look at their fingers weaving together in real time. He grinned, turning his attention back towards Angel with a closeness that threatened to stoke their growing intimacy.

“... and will continue to be for quite some time.”

And that? That was good enough an answer for Angel. He nuzzled his forehead against Alastor's own and let his eyes slip shut. It was a show of trust and of intimacy. He was wholly here, in the moment, and allowing himself to get swept up in Alastor. The urge to close the last little bit of distance between them was overwhelming. 

Angel wanted to seal this moment in a way that he knew how, a way that made sense to him, but niggling thoughts of respect for Alastor's aversion to such things kept him rooted in place. He squeezed Alastor's hand and pressed his cheek to the other demon's. 

"That's good with me," he said, his voice a barely audible whisper. His kiss ghosted Alastor's cheek instead of his lips, no matter how much his body screamed to bring that desire to fruition. Slowly, he prized himself out of Alastor's personal space to get a proper amount of breathing room before he did something to shatter the new found trust that was forming between them.

"I should… Let ya get some rest."

He was giving Alastor a choice. The phrase showed that he didn't want to leave, but he would for Alastor's sake. He was nervous and flushed and it all read so plainly on his face. He was trying to be decent about all this. 

Angel’s patience would undoubtedly pay off, not yet, but in other ways that would soon come to pass. The kiss on his cheek was another ice pick and Angel just kept chipping away. Alastor was incredibly pleased with their interaction and his heart was satisfied. It felt like the events that came to pass inside the cavernous walls of his room were a promise of something else to come and Alastor, by some hellish miracle, didn’t mind it in the least.

“I believe it would be the best for the both of us to,” he replied, backing away from Angel to give him the boyish grin the spider had put there. Those ears were charmingly perky after their exchange.

“I can walk you to your room,” Alastor offered, pulling away to head for the exit of his own room. “You never know what terrible things lurk around the corners here.”

Vaggie.

He meant Vaggie, who was going to explode on the both of them come morning.

Alastor’s grin was chuffed and wide.  _ He _ thought he was funny.

Angel never thought that 'sweet' would be a word that came to mind when he was describing Alastor, but it was the only one that fit. Things had shifted, the world was upside down and he felt floaty on his feet. There was something both freeing and grounding about not caving to instinctual desire, and instead, letting this simmer as it was. Angel was sweet on Alastor, it was abundantly clear. And now, Angel was fairly certain Alastor was sweet on him, too. He nodded, fiddling with the strings of his hoodie as he basked in that smile of Alastor's. 

Bashful. That's what Angel was feeling right now. He was feeling bashful. He cleared his throat with a nervous laugh. It wasn't a long walk to Angel's room, but he definitely knew what Alastor meant. They'd both be on deep shit tomorrow, but for tonight, they'd just exist like this. On the precipice of something sweet. He slowly shifted to stand beside Alastor and hesitated as he slowly looped one arm around the other demon's. 

He gave Alastor a nervous, sidelong glance, as if to ask if it was okay. 

"Shall we?" 

The familiar halls felt cozier now. Alastor's presence at his side made Angel feel at ease the whole walk back. He didn't even bother to stop for his things in the Lobby. They could wait. Nothing was important enough to break this comfortable stroll in silence. When they arrived at his door, Angel's hand rested on the knob as he delayed saying goodnight just a little longer. 

It was such a fresh and precious thing, what they had between them. It had started not too long ago, with coffee, back at the bar with an exchange of chocolate and concern, a deal and a tail rub.

And eventually, an apology like none other.

As they walked, Alastor placed his hand over Angel’s— the other one that had been resting on his forearm. The smile on his face wasn’t practiced or theatrical, instead entirely genuine. There was a good deal of silence, but there was a break in it as they neared. Alastor was charming, regaling Angel with a brief snippet of his interaction at Val’s studio before arriving at the door to his room. They’d speak more on it later, but a little levity paired with his charisma added a lightness that the evening sorely needed.

He released Angel once they arrived and there was a shy reluctance in it. Alastor’s tail, though obstructed by his body, was standing up expectantly behind him. He stalled in silence, noting how they both waited there as if in a standoff.

_ Someone _ had to say something.

Do something.

Anything.

Alastor gently grabbed Angel by the wrist and stepped in, awash with delighted giddiness.  _ ‘Good night,’ _ was such a simple thing to say, but something entirely different came out.

“Angel, may I—?”

Alastor's hand around his wrist drew Angel's attention. He looked at it and then to Alastor's face as he hazarded a half aborted request. It took a moment for Angel's mind to catch up to the meaning behind what was being asked. His eyes widened a fraction, and then his entire expression softened. 

He leaned down into Alastor's space, their foreheads touching again. He places a gentle hand on Alastor's face, his thumb caressing Alastor's cheek as he nodded. 

"Yeah, Al?"

Sure, he was playfully asking Alastor to finish that question, but at the same time, he was already giving Alastor the answer, as if it could have been anything other than  _ yes.  _ He waited, finding an abundance of patience he hadn't realized he was capable of until now. He'd give Alastor control of this moment with vigor, and enjoy for once, feeling wanted just for who and what he was beyond his career. Beyond what he could offer in power. 

He waited, and knew that it would be worth it. 

Alastor took Angel’s proximity as wordless consent. He carefully closed more distance between them, half shutting his eyes as his face dipped in and their noses brushed against one another. Alastor’s ears lurched back and down a fraction. His tail gave a precursory wiggle and he shut his eyes the rest of the way, tucking his face into Angel’s as their lips met.

It all happened so quickly and yet somehow, it felt like he was in a vacuum.

It was so soft and so painfully careful.

Angel was soft and warm, and Alastor found an inviting amount of courage in it. He placed his hand along the crest of Angel’s jawline and let himself linger there against his lips, delivering a sweetness that even Alastor found himself enjoying.

He pulled away, immediately kneading his lips together briefly before finding close eye contact with Angel. Alastor was smirking, but began to show signs of shyness.

“ _ Fè bon rèv e bon nwi, _ ” he said under his breath, which was a sentiment his Mother said to him many times as a child, right before bed.

_ Sweet dreams and good night. _

He began to pull away, smoothing down the front of his shirt before looking away with a boyishly smitten grin. Alastor was about to take his leave and began to step away, but he halted— Angel even began to show signs of pulling away and starting back into his room, but Alastor turned himself back around. He leaned back into Angel’s space abruptly and—

Stole one more.

_Just_ _one more and then, I’ll go_.

He shot a devilishly coy grin up to Angel, wordlessly admitting that he couldn’t help himself. And then, he left. Skittering away quickly to go preen in his room for the rest of the night.

The first press of lips was so delicate and tender, Angel hardly felt he deserved that kind of sweetness. He'd never been treated to something so soft and kind in the form of a kiss. When Alastor pulled away to wish him goodnight, Angel stood there. Dumbfounded. And then just as he was about to turn in, all at once Alastor was in his space again, stealing one more press of lips before he practically skipped away. Angel's hand lingered on the knob as he watched Alastor retreat with a dumb, heartsick grin on his face. 

" _ Buona note, presentatore _ ," he said so softly he was certain only he heard his voice. He retired to bed, feeling elated. He clutched his pillows, unable to stop the ache in his cheeks as he smiled broadly. He felt like a teenager. He was getting a taste of something he'd missed out on in his youth, all romance and courting had been unattainable for a young gay man in the 1930s. Now, in hell, of all places, he was getting a taste of a kind of joy he'd never known before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last! Hahaha. A smooch.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit shorter! But we hope you enjoy just the same!

When morning came and there was an insistent banging on his door, his mood couldn't be soured. He was on cloud nine, even here beneath the pentagram. 

Vaggie was practically beating down his door first thing. Angel opened it to find her shouting and swearing with his dress in hand. He snatched the bag from her and inclined his head. 

"Thank, toots. Save ya beratin' for downstairs. I gotta get dressed for my interview t'day," and with that, Angel shit the door in her face. He'd picked this cute little number up and now that he was showered and wearing it, it was finally giving him the joy he'd hoped it would. The slinky little drop waist dress with all its glittering champagne pink tassels reminded him of the kind of dresses he'd envied in his mortal life. Flapper gowns were off limits then, but no more. Angel tidied up his makeup and headed downstairs with a spring in his step. 

"Mornin', dolls!" he greeted with his usual amount of virve and camp, taking a seat at the bar, daintily tucking his ankles together. Charlie fretted over him the moment he was within reach. 

"Angel! You're okay! We were all worried about you!" 

"Speak for yourself," Husk grunted, but he gave Angel a slight nod that said he did care. Angel cleared his throat before Vaggie could start in on him again. 

"Ah-ah-ah! Before ya get all PMS-y on me, toots, hear me out… I've got an interview today on the 666 News. I'm gonna spin this and get the hotel's reputation back, I promise. Just leave it to me!" 

"Leave it to you?! You're the one who's consistently damaging the reputation in the first place! And then you got Alastor involved!" 

Angel's brows perked slightly and he glanced around. 

"Oh yeah… Where is our strawberry pimp this mornin', by the way?" Angel didn't need them suspecting a thing. He preferred to play this close to his chest. Charlie gestured vaguely in the direction of the kitchen. 

"Making breakfast… I'm sure he'll be glad to know you're okay, too," Charlie said through a strained smile. Tensions were riding far too high for Angel. He was still trying to enjoy the previous night and all it had given him. 

"Pffhhht… If you say so, princess," Angel replied, unable to fully mask the small, self indulgent smile on his lips.

He hadn’t sought out any of this, not even when he struck his original deal with Angel. It all happened so strangely and organically. How it wound up so neatly packaged in his lap, he didn’t know— and somehow, he had come out ahead after all of the nonsense and setbacks. Even in life, this sort of thing rarely happened. Alastor wasn’t quick to pursue, unless he was tracking his next victim. The thrill of the chase felt something like this— the way his heart fluttered and the expedient way blood seemed to pump through his veins, but it was still somewhat  _ different _ . Angel had done something to him and it usually might have given him cause for concern, but rational thought went out the window that night.

Alastor let something else lead for once and it wasn’t his head.

In the morning, he was singing— alight in the kitchen as tiny shadow workers helped him along. He wore an apron, tied neatly above his tail and Alastor was done up smartly for only making breakfast. A crisply collared burgundy shirt with sleeve garters was his attire, and a black brocade vest with matching red deer motifs adorned it.

He was sharp— sharper than the usual.

_ “Never saw the sun shining so bright, _

_ never saw things going oh-so right.” _

Alastor sung, backed up by the worker demons that toiled around him— a rousing and jazzy version of  _ Blue Skies _ . It could be heard through the vents and in the quiet corners of the Hotel, but soft enough to not overwhelm the sense and become  _ too  _ obvious.

_ “Noticing the days hurrying by, _

_ When you’re in love, my how they fly!” _

Grillades and grits, and although Alastor’s performance wasn’t overwhelming the Hotel, the smell, however,  _ was. _

_ “Blue days, all of them gone, _

_ Nothing but blue skies, from now on.” _

The demons echoed and provided musical back up, even as they began to set a lengthy table with plates and dinnerware. Candles were lit, orange juice was poured and Alastor found himself making the jump from the kitchen to the lobby with a gleeful finger snap.

“ _ Goooood _ morning, everyone!” he half sung, spreading out his arms and turning his head to make contact with everyone. Charlie, Husk, “ _ Breakfast,”  _ Vaggie, Niffty, _ is— _ ”  **_Angel_ ** .

__ Alastor’s breath caught in his throat.

He interrupted himself and paused, tugging off his apron suddenly and letting it disappear into thin air behind him. Alastor’s smile was unwavering, but it was apparent he was taken off guard by such an opulent display. Angel Dust was— he cleared his throat.

A miniscule shadow appeared from behind a bannister, off to the side of Husk and motioned hurriedly to the right of Alastor’s face. His eyebrows furrowed in question and waited for the insinuation to process. His face. Alastor wiped at it and turned up the energy behind his smile.

“Served!” he finished, offering practiced laughter.

“Why don’t you all come and sit down?” he gestured broadly before appearing around Vaggie to finger her chin.

“We’ve all had a rough couple of days and I believe a hearty breakfast is most definitely in order,” he explained, slinging an arm around Husk and pinching his cheek.

He began to lead the way into the Hotel’s dining room, waxing poetic about the dish he had made for all of them and its history. He sat at one head of the table and put Charlie at the other, but the tension between all of them sat at every chair— perhaps not Alastor’s. He was far from bothered. The casual eye contact he gave Angel after he made himself comfortable in his seat said much more than the silence hanging in the air did.

What a fool the Spider made the Deer out to be.

Angel was careful when he laid eyes on Alastor as he appeared in the lobby as if summoned by their conversation. He looked chipper, and the cut of his clothes suited him all too well. If Angel lagged behind to watch Alastor lead the way to the dining hall, no one noticed. He only minorly regretted it when Niffty zipped into one of the seats nearest Alastor and Husk begrudgingly occupied the other. Angel settled down beside Husk and picked up his glass of juice. His eyes wandered up the table to meet Alastor's in a brief glance. He shot a quick wink the Radio Demon's way and tucked into breakfast. 

The silence in the dining hall was only broken by the sounds of silverware on China for a long stretch. It was tense in here, beyond words, but Angel couldn't find it in him to truly care. Of course, the silence could only last so long. Charlie cleared her throat and poked at her breakfast. 

"Soooo… Angel. You said you had a news interview?" 

Suddenly, Angel felt several eyes on him all at once. He swallowed and washed down the bite with a swig of orange juice. 

"Uh huh. They wanna know what went down from my perspective. It's a cheap ratings grab, but they're payin' me and it'll give me a chance to make this whole mess up ta ya," Angel propped one cheek on the back of his hand and offered Charlie a smile. He was sugary sweet in tone and expression, but Vaggie didn't seem to buy it. 

"And how the hell do you expect to do that?" 

Her eyes were like daggers and her fork seemed suddenly much sharper. Angel perked up and with both hands, adjusted his bosom and fluffed it. 

"You don't get to be the biggest porn star in hell without bein' able to sell, toots. Have a little faith in me, would ya? I'm gonna tell 'em the only way I could work toward redemption was to burn down my past life. Remove the temptation! Ya see? Start over, fresh."

There was a long suffering sigh from Vaggie and Charlie gave a strained laugh. 

"I don't think… That's gonna work. You got Alastor involved… Aaaand… there was a lot of… Destruction. Not to mention a lot of people are preeeeetty upset about the studio being destroyed."

"Easy. We'll rise from the ashes, and bring the studio back. Under new management.  _ My  _ management. With real contracts. Ethical treatment of the talent. My path to redemption starts with reform of our corrupt media! Alastor is a media tycoon. Vested interest. Of course he got involved. See. It all makes sense. Has a positive spin. Aaaaand… I'm helpin' people."

"Helping rebuild the porn industry. In hell," Vaggie deadpanned. 

"Sex gets a bad rap," Angel replied, waving a dismissive hand in Vaggie's direction. "Plus… if I'm workin' with the talent, maybe I can get some new guests on board. It's a win."

Angel was mildly tense. He and Alastor hadn't discussed this last night, and he'd be glad to take his comments on board, but there was a part of him that was concerned for the reaction this might cause. He cast a careful glance Alastor's way, trying to communicate some kind of reassurance with a single look.

The only reaction Alastor could safely give to that pointed wink was a tight and insightful grin. He knew what it meant, but didn’t show it, and instead put his focus onto the newspaper to his right after a bite of food.

He casually leaned back in his chair and tipped backwards on his toe, legs crossed lankily at the knee. He sipped his coffee and bobbed his head to a soft tune that seemed to emanate off of him. With each little dip and turn of his head, the sound of a tuning radio dial crackled and buzzed, occasionally interrupting the chirp of silverware on china. The awkwardness of it all wasn’t lost on him, he just simply didn’t care enough to change it. 

The tension was  _ entertaining _ .

Alastor’s eyes drifted off the page every so often to look at Angel from over the edge of the morning issue of The Pentagram City Times and each time their eyeline met, he had to look away. He’d been caught staring.

“You’re awf’ly fuckin’ quiet for likin’ the sound of your voice so much, asshole,” Husk interrupted, hooking a claw over the edge of Alastor’s erected newspaper and tugging it down.

“Hmm?” he replied, turning his head to Husk with a quizzical smile. He waited a beat.

“I’m sorry!” he chuckled shortly after. “I wasn’t listening!” Alastor said it just to get the rise out of Husk. He heard it all, but pretended he didn’t. It bought him time to turn over Angel’s proposal in his head and craft either an agreement or a rebuttal.

What Angel had said and recommended actually hit on a note that even  _ he  _ had a problem with, a  _ moral  _ one, too. He was a cannibal— sadistic and destructive, sure, but even Alastor had scruples.

He cleared his throat with a lightly balled fist in front of his mouth and lowered his newspaper.

“I happen to think it’s a fine idea,” he proposed, doing his best not to look towards Angel. He didn’t want to implicate himself.

“You  _ knew  _ about this?” Vaggie cracked her retort sharply, the fork in her hand bending.

“No! Nononono,” he tutted, waving the flat of his palm at the table. “I simply think Hell could do with a little more class in that regard.”

“You mean to tell me you got a problem with fuckin’, chief?” Husk asked with amused disbelief.

Alastor shot him a dangerous look, and a telegraph beeped out something  _ foul _ .

“ _ Oho _ , that’s rich,” Husk had a good belly laugh and went to playfully punch Alastor in the shoulder. He smacked Husk’s clawed paw away before he could make contact and sat up straight in his chair, leaning on his elbows at the end of the table. He found that same practiced poise again and tapped his finger on the back of his hand. Getting razzed about this in front of Angel was terribly uncomfortable.

“What I’m  _ trying  _ to say,  _ Husker _ , is that there is something indelicate about the way it’s handled here in Hell! And who better than our dear Angel Dust to bring a modicum of respect and structure to the industry!”

“Besides! Intimacy is  _ hardly  _ a sin,” he explained, beginning to tuck himself back into the news. “... but there is a time and place for it,” Alastor added quietly... and with the right person, maybe. If it were something he were interested in _ —  _ and maybe in the right mood _. _ He was done navigating this.

“It does speak to the redemption you’ve been desperately seeking for him,” Alastor cast the line out with a great deal of temptation for Charlie.

Angel's fur ruffled slightly as Husk took a dig at Alastor but he bit his tongue. He didn't smirk and snicker, which no one but Husk seemed to take notice of. The feline narrowed his eyes and glanced between the two of them but Alastor had already moved on. He was supporting the idea. Good. At least he had that in his corner. Angel turned big eyes on Charlie who grimaced but couldn't seem to find a reason to argue. 

"I… Guess it's fine."

Vaggie was steaming and red faced. She clearly didn't trust it, and Angel didn't really blame her for that. 

"Smiles is right. Intimacy isn't a sin. And speakin' as someone who was inside that fucked up system for decades…"

His tone turned oddly serious and his jaw set. He was still feeling the lingering trauma of Val and all that he'd done. He cleared his throat, trying to make everyone look at him rather than Alastor. He could at the very least pull any focus away from what had been revealed. 

"It's a vicious cycle, princess. The sex, the abuse, the financial manipulation. Lots of us cope with drugs and alcohol just tryin' ta numb the pain or feel somethin' different. Val beat the shit outta me, used me, my mind was broken, my body was property, and I felt trapped with no choices. Believe it or not, it may not look like what you thought it would, but this hotel saved me. You…"

His fingers clenched on the tabletop and a quick glance was cast Alastor's way. This wasn't for Charlie, not really. But he'd sell it like it was. 

"Helped me break that cycle. This is how I help other whores like me break it, too. Find some peace. And some respect."

Angel was laying it on pretty thick but it got the point across and Charlie softened. Vaggie sighed and sagged in defeat. At the very least it was a step in the right direction. 

"Okay, Angel. I trust you."

Charlie nodded and a smile broke out on her face. Angel returned it and slowly stood. 

"Thanks princess. You won't regret it. And just so you know, my days in front of the camera are ova. So ya won't see anymore'a me all over your screens like before. Promise."

Angel picked up his juice and polished it off. His phone buzzed in his clutch bag where it sat on the table. Not the old one, but the new one. Angel had the old one tucked in his chest fur, where it always was. He snatched up the clutch and looked at Alastor with a mildly salacious smile. 

The newspaper was a welcome screen for Alastor to hide behind as he listened to Angel lay out his trauma so frankly. The tear he had gone on helped quell some of Alastor’s rage, but the cinders were still smoldering. It was a shame that the studio didn’t actually have the smut-peddler in it that night when he ripped through it, but Vox was more than enough of a consolation prize.

That  _ and  _ Lucifer deeming him victorious.

The rest of Angel’s explanation shifted in a direction that Alastor thought he didn’t hear correctly. It was too pointed but also still under the guise of convincing Charlie.

_ Interesting _ .

That was something that needed addressing, but later was going to be the only time for that. The final piece of information Angel decided to provide, however, was the one that needed to be addressed immediately. It was done with his own eyes, yanked from tiny printed words to a drooping paper edge. A microphone whined and the sound of a needle dragging over a record ripped through the air. He stared at Angel, an eyebrow raised and his mouth slightly agape.

Husk did about the same, but looked at Alastor once he heard the sound of his paper rustle. He was ducked back behind it again. No longer on screen— to what capacity? Alastor’s smile was tight and a little confused. Didn’t Angel like the attention? He failed to understand completely, but he added it to the pile of things he’d wonder about until he could privately speak to Angel about them.

"Thanks fa' breakfast, Al. It was a real treat. See you kiddos lata… I got a cab to catch," Angel said, wiping his mouth on a napkin as he stood.

His cab was still on its way but Angel needed some breathing room. He made a quick exit for the front door. The moment he was outside, he lit a cigarette and checked his new phone. A simple message. 

**_Good luck today. Be clever._ **

Whatever Lucifer's motivation was behind that text, Angel didn't want to know. He swallowed a knot in his throat and text back. 

**_Thanks._ **

He took a long drag and glanced back at the hotel. He needed all the luck he could get. Who knew what Alastor was really thinking?

Alastor peaked up one last time at the sound of Angel’s departure. Husk was warily staring at the large eared demon as the expression on his face turned suspicious. The way that they looked at each other— something wasn’t right there.

He rubbernecked as Angel left, trying to maintain a subtlety that no one seemed to pick up on besides the hellcat sitting to his right. Alastor pulled a small folded card from out of nowhere and a tiny horned demon flitted briefly in front of him to pluck it from his fingers. The smirk on his face was pleased and Husk wasn’t having any of it.

After a few minutes, it appeared outside in a haze of cigarette smoke. It coughed quietly in front of Angel’s face but still offered a smile.

“This is for you!” it said to Angel. It’s sweet demonic little body struggled to hold the miniature folded card in front of Angel, huffing and puffing with effort.

“Please take it, it’s  _ heavy _ !”

The message came by way of Alastor, who was attempting to play the rest of the Hotel staff for fools by hanging back and continuing their conversation. Charlie expressed her disappointment in Alastor, but understood why he intervened. It was simply dedication to his investment, he reassured. The tension wouldn’t be completely squashed until Angel’s interview was finally aired, but the environment was manageable inside the Hotel until then.

Inside the card, a handwritten note was scrawled out in lavish cursive.

_ The only treat was  _ _ you _ _. _

__ **_A_ ** _. _

It was an apology for being unable to join him, to wish him luck and provide the kiss he wanted to give before tucking him inside his cab by his hand and shutting the door like the gentleman Angel deserved.

Angel was startled at the sudden delivery of a note. Alastor didn't have a phone, and that was just fine. This was infinitely better than a text message. He clutched the little note close to his chest and then tucked it into his fur as his cab pulled up. He flicked the butt of his cigarette away and slipped into the back seat, feeling warm and elated. His heart was beating hard in his chest. He'd have words for Alastor when he got back. When everything was quieter and they could steal a moment for themselves. 

The ride to the news studio flew by. Hair and makeup. The obnoxious Katie Killjoy. The blinding lights. Some of it set him on edge. It was too familiar, being in a studio; the minute those cameras were on, so was Angel Dust. 

He oozed charisma and just a little bit of camp as he and Killjoy went through the interview. 

_ "What really happened with you and Vox?"  _

"What can I say? He caught feelings. Everything afta that, well… it was just a run'a bad luck. Can't say I'm surprised."

_ "What about the sudden involvement of the radio demon?" _

"If your rival was suddenly weak, what would you do? Hells entertainment industry needs serious reform. And sometimes a little violence is the only thing people listen to."

" _ What are you going to do now? The studio has been officially closed with Valentino out of the picture?" _

That was the opening Angel was waiting for. He moved through his pitch with ease, just as he had at breakfast, smiling, tugging heartstrings with his story of unique redemption. He laid the groundwork for his takeover of the industry and while Killjoy seemed bored, it wasn't her he was trying to win over. 

By the end of the interview, Angel felt confident and had a clear vision of his future. 

_ "Okay, Angel. One final question. You mentioned the radio demon earlier, who is a longstanding rival of Vox. And you've stated that the entertainment industry needs reform. Will the Radio Demon himself be involved in this reform?" _

Angel chuckled softly and tossed his hair. That wasn't his question to answer but he couldn't say as much. 

"Who knows? At this point, if someone like me can find redemption, I'm willin' ta believe that anything is possible."

By the time his interview came to a close, Angel. Had received dozens of messages. His bid to buy out the studio and rebuild was a trending topic. He was satisfied. All too pleased with himself, he tapped away on his way out, saying thanks to all his fans and sending an email out about buying up the studio. Rebuilding would take time, but Angel was willing to put in the work. 

Hell, maybe he could be an overlord someday? 

Only time would tell. 

He met Cherri for celebratory drinks before catching another cab back to the hotel. On the ride back one of his phones rang. The new one. Nerves set in as he answered. 

_ "Hello, Anthony." _

"Hello," Angel replied carefully so as not to reveal who he was talking to. 

_ "Nice work today. Lovely interview. Let me know if you have any issues acquiring the studio." _

Angel didn't want Lucifer's help but he expressed gratitude just the same. He was full of anxiety, and even his joy of having something to truly call his own couldn't stifle that cold dread. 

" _ How is Charlie taking the news?"  _

"Like a champ. She's behind the decision. It'll be good for business all around."

_ "I see… And Alastor?"  _

__ Angel's throat tightened and he pulled the little note from his fur, eyes trailing over the message once more. 

"I dunno… he's hard to read. Said he thought it was a good idea. I think he was bein' honest."

_ "Lovely. No road blocks within the hotel, then. I do look forward to seeing this little idea of yours play out. I do hope it goes well for you. We'll be in touch." _

"Lookin' forward to it," Angel lied. Lucifer chuckled and Angel's fur stood on end. 

_ "I sincerely hope you mean that." _

The line disconnected and the cab came to a stop. Angel paid his fair and stepped out in front of the hotel in a daze. 

What was Lucifer playing at? 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we continue! I hope everyone is enjoying the ride so far! This chapter is pretty fluffy and I hope it helps soften the blow of all the things coming in the future. ehehehe.

Angel’s pitch had Vaggie and Charlie staring with bated breath up at the television. It was obvious that they were nervous because up until this moment, every time Angel Dust had appeared on the moving picture screen it spelled catastrophe. Husk showed no signs of concern, but he was prepared for the interview to go off the rails. He had popcorn. Alastor watched behind them, his hands clutched behind his back much like how he watched Charlie bomb on live television not so long ago.

The mentions of his name had the sound of speakers popping and hissing quietly in the background. Squeaks and chirps, sometimes the whine of a microphone. He didn’t like coming up on the television like this, let alone publicly speculated over. Alastor cleared his throat and the image on the television warped and pixelated slightly.

That was quite enough of  _ that _ .

After the broadcast concluded, the dust finally felt like it had settled. The mood in the Hotel had been lifted significantly by Angel’s moving delivery. The music and drinks began to flow soon after. Laughter peppered the hallways. There was even a smile on Vaggie’s face as they finally came to sit around the blackjack table.

“You’re a filthy fuckin’ cheat!” Husk griped, throwing down his cards. Alastor grinned at Husk with a great deal of pleasure and then over to Charlie.

“Did I win again?” she asked gleefully, clenching her hands into fists beneath her chin.

“That’s some beginner’s luck you got there, hon,” Vaggie said, rubbing her back and looking at Alastor. She could bore holes into steel girders with her eyes. She knew what he was doing.

“Twenty one, right on the nose!” Alastor said, pressing his fingertip gently to Fat Nugget’s nose with an animated grin. The tiny pig sat on the table top in front of Alastor with a green dealer’s visor on. Alastor felt the presence of unfamiliar company outside before he heard it pull up to the front door. The magic that Alastor had employed in order to refurbish and keep the Hotel safe had its benefits.

His grin widened when he felt Angel arrive.

“Tell me, Husker, my boy, are you still feeling like a  _ betting man _ ?” Alastor asked slyly, leaning up against the inner rim of the dealer’s table.

Husk’s mouth pulled tight. He was waiting for Alastor’s proposal.

“I bet you anything that Angel is just about to walk through that door.”

“No way, he’s probably still out celebratin’, I don’t care how reformed that kid is. Old habits don’t die  _ that  _ hard,” Husk replied, shaking his head and crossing his arms in front of himself. “Besides, what you bettin’? What’s your creepy fuckin’ angle this time?”

“Oh, I don’t know! Why don’t we give the girl what she wants?” he proposed, gesturing over to Charlie. Her eyes  _ sparkled _ .

“You mean I can pet one of you?” she giddily squeaked. Charlie bounced in her seat excitedly.

When Angel walked in, Alastor was dodging a bucket of stale popcorn that Husk threw at him. He laughed and appeared next to Angel, giving the alluringly lanky spider a spin on one of his heels. Alastor was gloating in front of Husk, who was swearing heartily. Charlie’s fists were poised to bury themselves into Husk’s ruff and Fat Nuggets stood up on top of the table at the recognition of Angel. Vaggie turned towards Angel with a light grin, amused by the ridiculousness of everything going on. Nifty made herself busy by cleaning up the popcorn scattered on the floor.

Alastor wanted to indulge in more of Angel’s proximity, but he let go— not before pressing the palm of his hand to his back in order to steady him after his twirl, though. The telling action, however, was how he licked his lips and searched Angel’s face before walking away backwards a few steps to begin his retreat back to the group.

“You’re never going to believe what happened while you were away!” he chirped, hopping over the top of the bar to find himself a drink.

_ “Al—!!  _ That’s not for you to tell!” Vaggie griped.

“Oh, don’t you worry— how could I possibly ruin the surprise? I’m simply catching Angel up,” he replied, shaking a drink over his shoulder. Alastor had a  _ very  _ hard time taking his eyes off of Angel.

“We got a call from someone who wants to check in!” Charlie explained with utter elation. Her fingers were still buried behind Husk’s ears, who wasn’t  _ exactly  _ hating his loss. She was making kissy faces at Husk who was already beginning to turn into a puddle and  _ purr _ .

For Angel, there was something far better than any drink or any high about being swept off his feet in the wake of so much joy in the hotel. This strange little found family was coming together a little bit more every day. Angel laughed openly, and dramatically clutched at Alastor's chest as he was spun. There was a little affectionate rub of his thumb over Alastor's chest as they parted ways with silent promises of stolen moments later. For now, Angel was ready to join the celebration. The cynic in him was crushed under the heel of things finally looking up. 

"A new guest? Well wouldja lookit that! Everything's comin' up Hazbin. Congratulations, Charlie," Angel's usual camp was left at the door. He was fully himself now living in the moment. The lights of the hotel reflected off the beadwork on his gown as he slowly approached the table and covered his mouth to stifle a snicker as he watched Husk enjoy some petting. 

"Are you purrin'?" he teased. Husk hissed at him and pulled the brim of his hat down to hide his face. 

"Al, baby, whatchya mixin' up back there?" Angel leaned over the bar to grab a glass and a bottle. Champagne. It was called for. All thoughts of a Lucifer faded to the background as he joined in the merriment. 

"A toast! To us!" he called, raising a glass as he lounged against the bar top. The clink of crystal glasses coming together was like music to his ears. 

Angel stirred up a game of charades with far too many references that only he and Alastor understood. Another round of poker followed after, and then there was music. Dancing. It was a proper party. No drugs or dark things happening in hidden corners. As the night wound down and everyone traded off partner after dancing partner, eventually Angel and Alastor paired off. 

Angel tried not to look to pleased and could feel Husk's eyes boring into them but it didn't matter. He wanted to enjoy this. He'd be damned of the cat's suspicion ruined it. 

"Hey handsome," Angel spoke so low that no one but Alastor would hear him over the music, "I got your note."

Angel's smile was warm and indulgent. He was still chuffed about the little gesture.

The merriment that they all clung to provided a welcome reprieve from all of the theatrics and drama that had plagued them within the last few days. It reminded Alastor of a proper wingding from when he was alive— champagne and all. Liquor flowed and the strum of demon manned instruments filled the spacious Hotel. Dancing was something that naturally came next, and Alastor was holding out hope that Angel still knew how to properly move to the familiar plucky jazz that graced the airwaves back in their day.

“Did you now?” he replied smoothly, breaking eye contact as if on cue. He was playing  _ coy _ . “I can’t say that I know what you mean, my dear.”

Alastor was light on his feet and led Angel through a set of steps that were popular on every late night speakeasy dancefloor. He smiled smoothly and ran his fingers along the dip of Angel’s spine, a little more friendly than what was probably appropriate in public, but there had been champagne involved and he wouldn’t be holding himself accountable for anyone’s nosey watching.

“I would have written you more, you know— but there was only so much room for me to tell you just how beautiful you look,” and he waited to say it until he could match Angel’s masked volume, but up against his ear instead.

The music dwindled, and Alastor held one of Angel’s clasped hands in between their chests as he pulled him in tight. A very clever hand splayed along the middle of Angel’s spine to keep him pressed close as the summoned demon’s finished their set. He stood there, head tilted up a fraction as labored breaths heaved from his chest to look Angel in the eye for a little too long. His thumb rubbed along that pleasant little dip where his hand rested. It should have come as no surprise that Alastor’s handsiness was only going to get worse after everything that had occurred.

Everyone was exhausted and the night was quickly drawing to a close.

Husk cleared his throat.

“The fuck is goin’ on with these two,” he grumbled to himself, beginning to saunter off. “Treats me like a good for nothin’ wet rag, but Legs over here gets the royal treatment.”

He was drunk.

“G’night, guys,” Charlie huffed out with exhaustion. Vaggie followed after, hand in hand, while Niffty began cleaning up streamers, and dirty glasses.

They weren’t alone, not with Niffty flitting about, but Alastor had a swig or two of his drink to finish— using it as an excuse to break away from Angel and put some much needed space between them before it got out of hand.

Angel was swept away in the familiarity of the styles of dance so popular when they both were still living. It was all too easy to sink into the rhythm his feet still remembered. He hiked up the edge of his gown as they flowed together and just enjoyed the moment. Alastor's compliment had him flushed but he'd blame it on the alcohol. He couldn't stop smiling. He was far too happy. Beautiful. Alastor thought he was beautiful. That was better than any compliment from the king of hell. He laughed like a bell, melodic as he held onto Alastor and they spun around the impromptu dance floor. 

Let Husk be a grouch. Nothing could touch this moment.

Once they were alone, save for the company of Niffty, Angel dropped onto a barstool and tried to tidy up his hair a bit from how much he'd been spun and dipped. He beamed at the radio demon, charmed and wooed entirely. Were it not for one wide, prying eye, Angel would have closed the distance between them already. 

“You were positively radiant,” he complimented, gesturing in the air. “Why, I’ve never seen such passion out of anything with so many appendages!” Alastor teased, offering Angel one of his million dollar smiles. If they were truly going to catch up, one of them would have to find a way to break away from the Lobby without it looking too suspicious.

"It helped to have a dance partner who can lead. You're not so bad, yourself," Angel replied smoothly as he dug around in his clutch for his smokes. "I think I need some air and a seat. My dogs are barkin'. It's a nice night… Think I wanna check out the roof. See the view."

He cast a coy glance Alastor's way. It was an invitation. A casual enough one. He wasn't asking Alastor directly to join him, but an opening to allow him to casually invite himself. He gathered himself and bid Niffty goodnight with a wave. He headed toward the elevator with swaying hips, casting one last backwards glance toward Alastor before disappearing around the corner. He made his way to the roof and took in a deep breath of cool night air. He was warm from drinking and dancing and his close proximity to Alastor. 

The fresh air was actually quite nice. 

He lit a cigarette and approached the edge of the roof, leaning over the edge to look out at the sprawl. It was quiet tonight. So much had happened and changed so quickly, not just for the inhabitants of this hotel, but everyone outside of it as well… He took a long drag and blew heart shaped rings into the sky. 

Was this contentment? 

The emphatic posturing that Alastor had employed in his shoulders and in his smile served as a disguise. It hid the brazenly hungry way he would have reacted to Angel’s seduction— which was to kiss him until neither of them remembered what breath felt or even tasted like. Angel’s cleverness only heightened it with the suggestion of the roof, which was the perfect way for them to break away from each other and find shared privacy— that, and the swivel of thin hips that retreated up the cage elevator.

Alastor did his best not to watch it ascend, instead favoring the edge of the bar before setting his freshly polished off glass on top of it. A layover in his room was in order. He felt properly ruffled from all of the activity from earlier. He’d been anxiously waiting for this moment all day, and looking the part mattered a great deal to him.

The only indication Alastor had arrived up on the roof with Angel was the gentle kiss of delicate knuckles skating across the ridge of one of Angel’s naked shoulder blades. The touch was so soft, so feather light and seductive that it tantalized every nerve it passed over. The amount of admiration Alastor heaped onto the Spider from behind was deliciously heated. His eyes glowed with interest, half lidded and greedy in how they drank Angel in with gulps instead of the stolen sips he’d had to ration during the day.

“I would ask you what you thought of the view, but it can’t  _ possibly  _ compare to the one I get to have all to myself,” he said, letting the words slip from his smile cleverly. He rounded Angel’s shoulder to come into view. Alastor was cleaned up. He’d addressed his own messy hair, and added a deep velvet suit coat to his attire, one that went with the brocade vest he’d had on from earlier. The cut was like so many he had worn before, but it suited him just as well.

Alastor wanted to rush in, press his face just beneath the shell of Angel’s ear to murmur cleverly obscene compliments against his decadently soft skin. He’d wait, but everything on Alastor read starved.

Alastor's touch lit a fire that Angel had been carefully trying to quell. He wanted to respect Alastor's boundaries, and damn if Alastor himself didn't make that difficult. When he stepped unto view on the heels of his praise, Angel pressed his hands against Alastor's chest, smoothing his fingers over the velvet. It was so damn good to be alone with him again. 

Any important topics of conversation fled his mind in favor of attempting to puzzle out just what that intense gaze meant. Alastor looked ready to devour Angel, and he was very much on board with that notion. Still, he didn't dare make a mice, carefully biding his time and willing himself to be patient. 

"The view's a lot better now," he replied, pointedly caressing Alastor's cheek with his fingers. One set of hands braces against Alastor's shoulders while the other skated through his hair, around the base of his ears, settling on his jaw in the end. He held Alastor's face and scanned it with calm, half lidded eyes. 

"You make it very difficult ta control myself, ya know that, Al? And at the same time… Ya make me  _ want to.  _ Oh, what you do to me…"

Angel's confession was low, every word soft and slow as he let his hands fall away from Alastor's face and shoulders in favor of just one set, lightly resting on his biceps. 

"Can I tell ya somethin' that might sound… I dunno…  _ Weird? _ **_"_ **

Alastor’s eyes flitted shut, little flashes of dull light peaking on and off due to how Angel’s fingers got to him and took apart his charismatic and gentlemanly demeanor. Those spindly digits poked into his hair and grazed against a very sensitive scalp that put Alastor unevenly on his feet. The base of Alastor’s ears were much like his tail— a raw nerve that if treated in the right way, the radio demon could turn into a useless mess.

The Deer was  _ incredibly  _ responsive, which explained the immediate aversion to touch— if Angel could pick up on the correlation in this brief display. If that understanding wasn’t reached right away, it would be soon enough.

Angel’s hand at his jaw caused his focus to fall back onto Angel’s mismatched irises. Dim light peaked out again as he listened to Angel’s confession.

That jaw clenched, tight with identical sentiment. The heat behind the grin remained as Angel’s hands drifted down, taking him by his biceps. Alastor stood still, letting careful hands roam while Angel spoke.

“I don’t know, can you?” he replied, a self-satisfied grin playing on his lips with all that pent up heat. He leaned in a little further, casting a hopeful glance from Angel’s mouth to his eyes. Alastor ran his tongue over the delicate edge of two sharp teeth, his mouth slightly agape and in full view.

“Either way, I believe I’m all ears,” Alastor’s smile widened, as one of his ears twitched playfully.

Despite the building heat between them, Alastor's joke still earned him an eye roll and a grimacing smile. Angel huffed a laugh and squeezed Alastor's arms for a moment. He was trying to be serious and sincere, and Al… Had jokes. Angel couldn't help but chuckle despite himself. It was a groan worthy retort, but the whole situation was so absurd that humor felt appropriate. Even in tiny doses. 

Still, under that humor was a suggestive, wandering gaze, and equally wandering hands. Angel struggled to focus as he thought about those sharp teeth on him for a moment. He had to stop and collect his thoughts. He had something to say and it felt important. 

"You… make me nostalgic for somethin' I never had while I was alive. I don't wanna wax too poetic here, because I really can't stop thinkin' about how bad I wanna kiss ya, but I just needed… to say that… The way you're treatin' me makes me feel… special. So… Yeah. I'm… I'm just gonna kiss you now, okay?"

Angel fumbled over his words but it felt right to have said them. Alastor had shown protectiveness, romantic gestures, softness, sweetness. All in his own way, but they hit home for the Spider. He should have known he'd fall like this. Alastor had him hook line and sinker. So he leaned down to close the distance between them. 

Alastor loved a good confession, and this one was one he’d never heard before. Angel’s words gave him too much credit. Alastor had only done what came naturally given the circumstances. He wished he could have done more under the myriad of prying eyes present within the Hotel, but he’d settle for whatever he could get away with— even if he was guilty of pushing the envelope tonight.

“Angel,” he said, leaning in and pulling his shoulders up towards his ears minutely. Alastor selfishly wanted his attention one last time before they were lost to the physical tango that they were both eager to partake in.

“Angel, I don’t think you know exactly  _ how  _ special you  _ are _ ,” Alastor gleaned, putting his hand on his waist and closing in. He snatched up one of Angel’s hands in his own and shifted on his feet. One shoulder dropped as he brought one of those delicate appendages to his mouth. He licked his lips and maintained eye contact as he pressed a kiss to Angel’s knuckles— with teeth, tongue and a whole lot of suggestion.

“ _ You _ have ensnared me,” he confessed, carefully dropping his mouth’s interest from the top of Angel’s hand down to the sensitive inside of his wrist. Another kiss, and then another just below that one. These little tastes could hold him over a little while longer until their conversation was finished, but he internally cursed himself for letting himself taste Angel like this.

Afterall, it was a  _ little  _ selfish.

“Like no other has in Hell,” Alastor finished, relinquishing Angel’s hand to suggest its presence in his hair again. It had been quite sometime before anything of this caliber had pinged Alastor’s radar.

“Now that we both have our own confessions out of the way, I am more than happy to take you up on that offer,  _ mezanmi _ ,” he supplied, leaning into Angel’s space— a hair’s breadth away from his lips so that he could just linger and breathe him in like this. He’d waited for it all day and savoring it was high on the list of things to do tonight.

He whispered something soft in broken Creole and finally took Angel’s lips for his own.

At first, he was sweet, one chaste kiss chasing after the other. Sure hands wandered, holding and securing Angel to him until the threat of teeth brushed up against something pliant and soft, swollen from being kissed. Angel’s lower lip. Alastor didn’t bite, but his mouth  _ did  _ push— falling open to introduce a clever tongue into the fray.

Angel had heard he was special before. But those compliments hadn't happened in a vacuum. There was always ulterior motive. There was always something sinister lurking behind them. This time, however, they rang true and he was glad for the distraction of physical affection lest his emotions overwhelm him and make him say something foolish or worse, ruin the moment with unnecessary tears. He lost himself in the feeling of Alastor's lips on his skin, the promise of more in each little display of affection made his knees weak. 

Alastor's kisses were intoxicating. Angel was inebriated by the familiar motions made new again by the wealth of adoration in them. His adoration for Alastor, and Alastor's for him. It was not one sided, it was not fueled by money and power. He was drunk on it. It felt, for all that he'd experienced, like being kissed for the first time. His mouth was pliant and quickly kiss bruised by Alastor's lips. It was impossible not to softly whimper as they slid so perfectly together. His hands clung where they could as his knees buckled. Fingers found their way into the front of Alastor's shirt to take in the warmth of his skin. 

Other fingers sank into his hair and up against his ears. He couldn't resist the soft and inviting feeling of everything Alastor. He returned each furtherance of their kiss with fervor. His breath came heavier as teeth incidentally caught his lips and he tasted the metallic tang of swollen lips. He was a quivering mess in Alastor's grasp. 

He'd always told himself he'd never catch feelings like this, and yet here he was diving head first into them. They kissed for so long, that Angel was certain they'd greet the sunrise like this, but the reality was that time seemed slower as they indulged. A gift just for them. A mercy to let this intimate moment stretch on for longer. Angel's heart felt full and his head was swimming. When he pulled away, he was quick to close in again, mouthing over Alastor's neck as a pair of hands snaked downward to press against Alastor's lower back and his fingers carded through the soft fluff of Alastor's tail. He nudged his nose against Alastor's jaw and his lips ghosted over his cheek. 

All that pent up affection was flooding out in a tsunami. They'd both be crushed and Angel was fairly certain that Alastor didn't care anymore than he did. 

"Maybe I oughtta confess more often," his voice was rougher, lower, and full of playful desire.

What a beautiful web to be caught up in, one that glistened in crystalline pinks and whites and Alastor was greedily caught up in it— suffocated by it. Although he’d been clever, a deal maker and a peddler of false promises, he couldn’t bring himself to be any of those things with Angel. Angel dug up in Alastor a buried piece of humanity and brought it to the surface, causing him to come out of his carefully constructed shell of charismatic rehearsal and participate instead of observe.

By now, he cared more for Angel than to see him continually keep falling down and failing, and that frailty he displayed, all of that vulnerability— it reminded him of how precious the shreds of latent humanity could be. He cherished it.

He cherished Angel.

Alastor, for once, wanted to raise someone up rather than kick them down and place bets— instead, choosing to protect and care. Angel made him feel. He livened him and quickened his pulse. Alastor desperately wanted to secure that burning bright light of a throb for his own, and Angel was quickly proving to be the source that encouraged that steady rhythm.

When he kissed Angel, he kissed him with that same hungry reverence— searching for the things about him that ignited his heart to beat for something other than twisted entertainment. Lucifer below, he was  _ precious _ . A rare jewel that tamed the perversely gnarled evil that resided deep inside Alastor.

Alastor had hands that were unable to mind themselves. They grabbed and tugged, skating around sharp angles to grip soft flesh and fluff. Angel’s mouth slotted so eagerly against his that each kiss had them hastening towards vulgarity at Alastor’s urging— and those hands weren’t doing much better. He’d leaned back, bracing himself up against the roof’s ledge to pull Angel  _ onto  _ him more than against him— which was perfect for when Angel decided to turn his mouth’s attention towards Alastor’s throat.

All he could muster was hot breath, a huff that shot out raggedly from his deserted lips that looked like a puff of smoke in the cool night air.

Alastor’s eyes fluttered open, gazing up and out into the night as he tried to reel himself back in and remain on the ground. It was a careful dance and Angel’s fingers carding through his tail began to strip the lead from Alastor— who was doing his best not to completely fall apart. 

Another confession?

“It might not do either of us any good,” he replied in the ecumenical sense, and as odd as that was, it wasn’t as odd as Alastor’s voice whining out of him and sounding completely and utterly wrecked.

“We’re already in hell—  _ ahh _ ,” Alastor’s spine arched, and his solar plexus pressed hard into Angel’s chest. A shiver wracked his body, one that travelled from both fluffy ears down to his curling toes.

_ Wait _ . Slow down.  _ Stop _ .

Another unfamiliar sound was one of Alastor grunting, not painfully, but in an attempt at regaining control as Angel’s fingertips continued to take him apart hair by fluffy hair. That ragged and clipped grunt was like an alarm going off, until there actually  _ was  _ one beeping out frantically into the night air.

‘ _ We interrupt our scheduled programming; this is a national emergency... _ ’

Almost rutting into Angel was where the line was drawn. Not on the roof, and certainly not like this. Alastor slowed himself down, flushed and panting as he collected himself from getting so worked up.

“Angel, please— would you slow down, with that,” he asked, unable to bring himself to explore that part of himself again so soon. That kind of escalation could wait—  _ needed  _ to wait. Angel didn’t know what he’d be getting himself into if those previously shackled flood gates opened.

What Angel would have given to keep feeling Alastor squirm like this for just a little while longer. His own experience made him far more able to meter his responsiveness with a modicum of self control, but now, even he was slipping. Alastor's warmth and the feel of him had Angel caught up in the moment. Would he liked to have kept going? Of course, but there was a voice in the back of his head that reminded him of certain things he knew about Alastor. Things that were important and that Angel had already accepted and wanted to treat with respect. 

Admittedly, he'd gotten a tad carried away. His wandering hands and hungry lips were eager to touch and taste. As much as he wanted to experience Alastor, he also wanted to make Alastor feel good. It was pointless if the Deer didn't enjoy himself, too. Angel's fingers withdrew from Alastor's spine and softly swept over Alastor's clothes, smoothing them out. He pulled back just enough to fix Alastor's hair a bit as he tried to get his own tagged breathing under control. His gaze searched for Alastor's as he settled his hands on his shoulders. He smiled and leaned in for one more chaste brush of lips. 

"Betta?" he asked softly. He didn't want to bring Alastor distress. No. Quite the opposite. He nuzzled against his cheek and slowly wound around him in an embrace, drawing him away from the edge of the roof. 

"I got carried away… Sorry, Al," Angel spoke with sincerity and kindness. His voice was still rough, and his body was still humming like a freshly struck tuning fork, but he'd live. He'd definitely be touching himself later while thinking about this, but he'd live. Alastor's comfort was key, for Angel. So much of Angel's life in hell had been marred by his inability to say no. Sometimes he wasn't allowed to say yes, either. He didn't want to make one of the only people he gave a shit about feel that kind of pressure. 

He wanted to tell Alastor that he'd be willing to wait. Even if that meant  _ never _ was a possibility. Was that character growth? It must have been. Sex was on the back burner. He basked in the closeness as he took deep breaths to try and come back from the tipping point of no return. 

It was safer to rely on rehearsed laughter, no matter how broken it sounded. It was a way to stifle the embarrassment of getting carried away and losing himself, even if it was only for a moment. The surprise, however, was in the way that Angel smoothed him over and put him back together, piece by ragged piece.

His response only served to endear Angel only closer to him. Paired with the nonjudgmental way he reacted over Husk’s dig over breakfast, Alastor was certain that placing trust in his new companion wasn’t a foolhardy decision. Out of all the demons and sinners in Hell, he never would have expected Angel Dust to react with so much understanding and care.

“Yes, thank you,” he replied after the short hushed chuckle. Alastor pressed his palm over his neck, willing the heat that had gathered there away. “I hope I didn’t disappoint you,  _ I _ …” he began, stalling over his explanation.

It didn’t feel like he needed one, but something in him wanted to try. Angel deserved that much.

“Well, I believe you heard my sentiments over this kind of thing over breakfast this morning. Let me assure you, this isn’t something I normally partake in,” Alastor explained, grasping one of Angel’s hands.

“Perhaps another time,” he proposed, falling into a less conflicted smile. If the development between them kept up, the eventuality would become more and more likely.

“Until then, why don’t you regale me with all of your recent developments,  _ hmm? _ ” he asked, suddenly a little brighter and without chagrin. He held a set of Angel’s hands in his own and practically beamed. That previously pawed at tail was standing at attention. Alastor was excitedly interested in catching up.

“I dare say it’s not everyday that Lucifer himself gets involved in the lives of lowly everyday sinners,” he reasoned, his ears rotating and perking to listen to Angel with crystal clear focus.

After all, they hadn’t even properly spoke about any of this since it occurred. Now that the dust had settled, perhaps it was finally the time. Was Angel going to ask for his help like Katie proposed? Did he even want it?

Angel smiled at Alastor's explanation. He didn't need one, but the effort was rewarded with a quick peck on the cheek. 

"Don't sweat it, Al. I'm not disappointed… If anythin'... It's nice to feel like I'm appreciated for somethin' other than my ability to fuck," he assured him, "Sure, I want ya. But not just fa' that."

The suggestion that maybe someday they might left a flush on Angel's cheeks. He was positively smitten, and that in and of itself was miraculous. He'd never been so keen on someone like he was on Alastor. It felt good to be swept up in a kind of delicate courtship he'd always missed out on. He'd been so deep in the closet his whole life that things like this just weren't possible. And as Hells premiere sex entertainer, he had missed out yet again on anything that felt real. This was a breath of fresh air and he was greedily taking it in. 

Their fingers were suddenly intertwined and Alastor was his usual perky self. It was interesting to see how quickly he could shift. There had been many developments and Angel had more details for Alastor, of course. He use his free hands to light another cigarette as he pondered the conversation with Lucifer. The interview. All of it. Everything was happening so fast. This silent benefactor was the most dangerous and powerful being in hell, and it didn't sit well with Angel. What was Lucifer's end goal, here?

"His Majesty told me ta let him know if I have any trouble acquiring the studio… seems he's pretty keen on the idea. Even asked if you an' Charlie objected. For whateva reason, it looks like he wants this ta happen," Angel explained as he took drags off his cigarette. He was loath to let Alastor go, but his legs wanted to pace. He shifted away and did just that. 

"It's a huge undatakin'. I'm… I dunno if I'm cut out fa' this. But I wanna try. I never did anythin' good before. I can now. Sex work… it's… It can be so empowerin' if ya have the right kinda set up. I wanna give folks somethin' I neva' had an' maybe that's naive, but…"

He was rambling. He looked to Alastor with hope in his eyes. He took a seat on a rooftop vent and ashed his smoke onto the concrete. He shrank in on himself shoulders drawing up to his ears as he pondered the future. What was possible… 

"If… I know it ain' ya Forte, but you know deals… Inside an' out. If you wanna be an advisa, I… I'd be glad fa' the help."

He snubbed out the smoke and ran his fingers through his hair, nervous and jittery. 

"Ya don't have ta. I don't wanna make ya uncomft'able. I only put it out there 'cause you're the only one I really trust."

_ Deal - deals - dealing - dealt - dealer. _

Alastor’s right ear twitched reflexively. He clasped and folded his arms behind his back and stood to Angel’s flank, listening keenly to what the Spider had to say.

The development was obviously unexpected and very good for Angel, but the other development that seemed even  _ more  _ unexpected was the mention of trust between them. Those were sentiments that never apparated in conversations involving Alastor.  _ Trust— real  _ trust.

There was that same flutter in his chest, growing worse by the minute.

“I’m not going to begin by telling you that I know exactly what you mean, Angel, but I  _ do  _ understand the enterprise of en - ter -  _ tainment! _ ” he replied with an animated gesture, fingers and limbs moving lithely through the air. He stepped into view, light on his feet and reclining onto the railing with charming ease. Alastor was— well, it was difficult to say. The swell that accompanied the throb in his chest felt like pride, but not for himself. What Angel had done and pulled off, for someone who started at the very bottom of the cesspool of sinners was fabulously impressive. Angel clawed his way out and embraced ascendency with an elegance that Alastor only really ever saw in himself.

Angel would always have Alastor’s respect.

“ _ How _ ever,” he began, extending an index finger into the air for some much needed flair. “You keep throwing around a word I don’t think you quite understand, Angel, and I would like to educate you on the importance of it.”

He waved a hand in front of himself and a jagged cut out appeared in the air next to him, like the screen of talkie but it was bordered by shimmering green light. On it, was a cartoonish hand drawn image of Alastor as a human— adorably illustrated. He pointed at it and tapped his fingernail on it.  _ Tap, tap _ . He sat behind a microphone with a headset inside of a studio. Tawny colored skin. Dark hair. 

“As I am sure you have probably guessed it, that handsome fellow you see right there is me _ , _ ” he began, and the image waved from behind a microphone. The image burnt out like overheated film and what was left behind was the hand drawn gingerbread-like cutout of Alastor. It was covered in blood with an axe in its hands with a smile much like the one he possessed now.

“Before departing the world above, _ I _ made a bargain— a fortuitous one! But it was one that unfortunately secured my place in Hell,” one that made sure that Alastor  _ never _ left. Charlie would have been disappointed hearing it. Alastor knew she had intentions of pursuing redemption with him somehow, but even she didn’t have the ability to break the claim on his soul. The screen animated his story. Green light. A handshake. Blood. A gunshot between the eyes.

Yet it never defined the deal in its entirety. In life, all Alastor wanted was the ability to destroy and dominate, either in ratings or in the marks he deemed primed and ready enough to die. He never knew that the ability to do so would be his until he reached the underworld. These caveats were the same ones he would take advantage of himself in order to feed his power.

“ _ Now _ , it is  _ my  _ charge to continue the work in much of the same manner that brought me here,” he explained, shooing the screen away with a flick of his wrist. The responsibility came with the additional fine print of always having to listen whenever the word was brought up— as well as a few others.

“Making a deal with you, Angel, is nothing that would make me uncomfortable,” Alastor offered, tipping Angel’s head up to look at him with a tilt of his chin. “.. but I encourage you to be  _ very _ explicit.” Alastor kissed Angel, a quick peck on the mouth and little press of his fingertip to the elegant arch of his nose for punctuation.

_ Terms and conditions apply _ .

“My only hesitation is that whatever deal you might decide to strike up,  _ binds  _ us to one another,” which was how it worked. Which was why Alastor could take advantage and feed off of it. He cannibalized souls and their misfortune in order to feed his own power. “Until one party finds that the deal has been fulfilled, their interests will always find themselves intertwined and undermined by mine.” Which was why the suggestion for Angel to be clear came about.

“My services are far more effective when a handshake is involved, and if you would like to make one,” he said, offering his hand. “I can make you  _ unstoppable _ .”

“Think about it,” he offered, retracting his hand. “Otherwise, I already have one charity investment.” He couldn’t afford another, even as much as he would have liked to. Eldritch horrors didn’t conjure themselves up for free.

Angel sat back and soaked in all this information. He was a little dumbstruck. He hadn't bargained on so much honesty from Alastor and things continued to make more and more sense. One thing was abundantly clear. He didn't want to drag Alastor into this any further if it was going to cause strange entanglement issues. Angel would find his footing on his own. Alastor's past was just as dark as Angel's own. Darker, even. It probably shouldn't have been as comforting to him as it was but knowing he wasn't the only topside killer in the relationship gave him a strange sense of peace. 

"Al--" a kiss, a touch, Angel was silenced for the moment. He waited for Alastor to finish and sure, power was tempting. But he didn't want Alastor's power. He just wanted… 

"Hey. I'll be a little more careful with that word in the future but I think ya got me wrong… Doesn't matta," Angel reached out and took both of Alastor's hands in his own and squeezed. 

"Just knowin' you wanna see me succeed is enough. No special arrangements necessary. I'd rather us be bound 'cause we want to. Not 'cause of any magic. Ya get me?" 

A cool breeze whipped across the rooftop and Angel shivered slightly, wrapping his arms around himself. He glanced toward the door and back to Alastor with a demure curl of his lips. 

"Wanna walk me back?" 

No, he didn’t— he didn’t  _ get  _ Angel and what he meant, not right away at least.

The only thing that bound anyone to him were the deals he made. He came on too strong, or so he thought by Angel’s reaction. His carefully manicured claws fidgeted with one another until Angel took his hands in his own. That was…

… maybe enough of  _ that _ — at least he understood now.

Alastor offered his coat after rolling his shoulders out of it. He placed the warmed fabric around Angel and tugged at the lapels, drawing them together and using the velvet edges as an anchor to draw him into a chaste but clever kiss.

“Don’t you believe that asking ludicrous questions gets you even sillier answers,” he asked, taking Angel’s hands up into his offered arm. Of course he’d walk him to his room, there wasn’t any doubt in his mind that this wasn’t the way the night was going to end.

“ _ Angel _ ,” he began, depositing both of them in front of Angel’s doorstep. He stepped in a little closer, unable to mind his own business. It was very personal, just like the rooftop, but at least the Spider knew the current boundaries. Alastor wouldn’t act outside of them.

“Is there some other name I should call you?” Alastor asked, but the faint heat behind the glow of his eyes was ever present. _ More _ . “Or should I keep calling you the addictive moniker you chose for yourself when you arrived?”

Alastor's coat cut the cold and Angel had never felt quite so cared for. He was swooning into that kiss and the light teasing. When they were suddenly on Angel's doorstep, he clung a little tighter to Alastor's coat. He was reluctant to give it back and for this night to end. It hardly seemed fair that the celebration should be coming to a close, but there would be other nights. He told himself that, and tried to believe it. 

But the moment suddenly shattered as Alastor asked--

"Wh-- wha… I…"

He was suddenly at a loss for words. He swallowed audibly and averted his eyes, nerves getting the better of him. His whole family was down here, and other than Lucifer himself, they were the only ones who still used that name. He avoided them. His twin sister. His stupid brother… And most especially… His father. 

His name.

His  _ real  _ name. 

It held so many bad memories. So many unpleasant attachments. He wanted to protest and say no. Instead he took Alastor by the hand and lead him into the room. Prying eyes and all that. Once inside he leaned against the door and shrank. 

"Al, I said I trust you, an' I do… and you shared stuff with me so… so I'm gonna share somethin' with you. And it's gonna have ta be private. Somethin' for just you an' me. Okay?" 

Angel swept past him into the room and dug out a shoebox from beneath his bed. It was full of pictures. They were old, faded, but they were something Angel had traded a night (a very unpleasant night) to get his hands on. He'd needed some kind of physical reminder of what came before. When things were bad with Val he could look back and tell himself, at least he wasn't there anymore. In every picture there was a sadness in his smiles. He was closeted. Miserable. Dragged into what his family wanted and never living for himself. 

They were from topside. They were of him. His family. Everything that came before. 

"I ova' dosed… That's how I went. I was the first ta go… But they're here too. My family."

He and his sister were as identical as a brother and sister could be. Angel sat down on the edge of the bed and folded his hands in his lap. 

"We were… We were bad people. The family business… Liquor. Drugs. Weapons. So that name… My name… It's always belonged to them."

He reached out and plucked a photo from the box, turning it over to show his name and the year. 

_ Anthony on the Docks - 1933  _

"But now… Lucifer's usin' it too… It's not that I don't like it, but…"

Angel sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. 

"It doesn't feel like it's mine. Not really."

He met Alastor's gaze with a sad, tight jawed smile. 

"If ya wanna call me Anthony, ya can… just… only when it's us. Just the two of us."

It didn’t come as a surprise that Angel didn’t keep his name. So many demons and sinners tried to separate themselves from their human forms— like they weren’t powerful enough in their own right to keep them. That, or they were too full of shame to let them carry over. Yet, everyone  _ earned  _ their right to be here. Alastor saw it as a badge of honor, the lubricant into damnation. Sometimes reinvention was necessary, even Lucifer kept his own name after the fall.

“Angel, have you ever thought that you could claim ownership of your own sin, instead of being owned  _ by  _ it?” Alastor asked rhetorically, looking over the picture of the stifled blonde. It was eerie in the way that they looked so much the same. Angel’s form took on something so different, but altogether fitting. The mafia. A web. A spider like visage seemed appropriate. The liquor, drugs and murder was one thing, but the other thing Anthony couldn't control, however, was a predisposition. That didn’t buy him his damnation.

Alastor was sure of that.

“Whatever you like,  _ Anthony _ , I’m happy to keep in between us,” he reassured, leaning over to rest on one of his palms. He sat close to Angel on his bed and almost deposited the picture that took up home in between his fingers back into the box of his memories.

He stalled selfishly.

“Would you mind if I held onto this one?” Alastor asked, looking to Angel for permission.

Angel had actually considered what Alastor was suggesting. Owning one’s sin instead of letting one’s sin own you. Angel hadn’t wanted that sin to define him when he arrived. He wanted to thrive and be the one thing everyone told him was sinful that he’d never been allowed to be. Himself. That’s why the name change felt so damn appropriate then, but he supposed that now he was reclaiming himself in a different way. This wasn’t just about his sexual freedom anymore. It was about being a fully realized person. 

He leaned his shoulder against Alastor's as they sat side by side on his bed, looking at the photographs. He didn't recognize himself all the time. Sometimes that young face, blonde hair, and those wide eyes seemed foreign to him. He'd been cut down by addiction early. Alastor's red tipped fingers against the black and white photo made it easy to remember the colors that had been muted by photography. 

Then he heard it. His name. When Alastor said it, it set a small spark off in Angel's chest that made him feel warm. He tipped his head to one side to rest his head on Alastor's shoulder, wrapping one arm around Alastor's own. 

"Yeah… You can keep it. But… can I ask somethin' I return?" 

Angel lifted his head to meet Alastor's eyes. He looked through thick lashes, his hair falling in front of his eyes. 

"Will ya stay again? With me? No funny business, like last time. Promise. Just… stay an'... Hold me."

Angel propped his chin on Alastor's shoulder and waited to see just what his answer would be.

Alastor, for all of his sharp edges and rigidly packaged persona, was going to find himself softened by Angel’s request. That, and the gentle way he looked up at him from his shoulder was going to keep melting the last little bit of ice that grasped the very core of his heart. Alastor wasn’t going to deny him.

In fact, the suggestion to stay sounded far better than leaving.

“Do you know what I  _ would  _ have told you?” he asked, eyebrows pitching up with the tightening of his grin. Angel might have seen it for what it was; a tell that he was going to make a joke. He had few of them, but there was a specific grin for when he was in the throes of amusing himself.

“For someone with so many arms, why don’t you go and hold yourself!” Alastor delivered it with the usual fanfare, but a little quieter— given that he didn’t mean it. His laugh was casual, but it was clipped with a clearing of his throat. Angel was going to have to keep enduring the groan inducing hilarity that came by way of Alastor’s sharp sense of humor.

“Why don’t you slip into something more comfortable and we can do as you suggested,” he offered, turning his relaxing smirk towards Angel. As much as he appreciated the class of what he was currently wearing, it wasn’t something that was conducive to a comfortable night’s rest. Alastor would do much of the same, but with the flair of his own magic. A robe. Soft, black and striped adorned his frame. A comfortable relic from the past.

Alastor would wait patiently for Angel, comfortably pitched up at the head of the bed. He turned over the picture that was now his to keep, looking at it one last time before tucking it into the chest pocket of his pajamas. He hummed, clasped his hands on his lap and looked around Angel’s room until a soft snuffle hit his ears from the floor.

Fat Nuggets.

Apparently, he was going to be in high demand come bedtime. Alastor put the piglet on his lap with a sigh and an eye roll.

“ _ You _ are a terrible cheat,” he said to the pig, who aided in his dealings at the blackjack table earlier. Fat Nuggets eyes glowed in protest and Alastor raised a hand in between them.

“No, nono— no, I’m not  _ mad _ , but it was a little bit obvious you were letting Charlie win.”

Angel slipped away to change into something simpler on the heels of a soft laugh. Alastor's peculiar humor was one he was still getting used to being on the receiving end of. For all the terror he could unleash, he still held some semblance of good natured laughter. It was refreshing. It was something Angel hadn't known he was missing. He freshened up his face, clearing away his makeup and slipped into a slinky satin night gown before rejoining Alastor, only to find him having a heated discussion with Fat Nuggets about cheating at cards.

He didn't want to admit what that small, simple exchange made him feel. In the few short months he'd known Alastor everything had happened so slowly, and then all at once. He was lost in the rush. He slipped into the bed beside Alastor, spindly arms winding around him and drawing him into the plush covers. He found a place to rest with his head tucked against Alastor's shoulder. Fat Nuggets made himself at home in a nest of blanket between their legs and settled in. 

"I shoulda warned ya, he's a cheat," Angel hummed softly, letting his eyes slip shut. He mumbled a soft goodnight as he clung to Alastor, glad for his company that afforded him such peaceful sleep. 

He stayed wrapped around Alastor as he slept, never straying into untoward territory, but rather, basking in the warmth of his company and the simple pleasure of sharing his bed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I've been very caught up in writing MHA fics and it's been a real time suck.

Morning came too soon and Angel was up with the light of dawn, getting dressed in his usual fare and throwing on his routine makeup. As he went about his morning he did his best not to disturb Alastor or Nuggets, but his efforts were undone by a knock at his door. He opened it and blocked the view with his body, finding himself looking down at Husk. 

"Princess wants a meeting. Before the new guest gets here. So hurry your pretty ass up," Husk grunted. Angel huffed a put upon sigh and nodded. 

"Right. A 'course. I'll be down in a minute," Angel said, watching as Husk narrowed his eyes and tried to get a glimpse inside the room. 

"You got somethin' to hide?" Husk ground out. Angel laughed and shut the door in his face. He turned around, all humor lost in the wake of a nervousness of being caught creeping in. He didn't want to deal with everyone else. He just wanted to enjoy this for himself for a little bit. Was that so much to ask? 

He cleared his throat and approached Alastor. 

"Mornin' sleepy head. I guess the princess is callin' a hotel meeting," Angel explained, laving affection on him with gentle touches and kisses, getting it in while he could before he started the day. But he was not to be allowed that without interruption either. He gave a long suffering sigh as his new phone chirped. He plucked it from its charger and looked at the message. 

**_I understand there's a new guest checking in today. Update me later on who they are. And remember. The devil's in the details. ;)_ **

Angel tapped out a quick reply, confirming his compliance and then tucked both phones away for the day. The magic of the previous evening was broken, but Angel tried to look forward to when they'd get it back. He gave Alastor a strained smile and ran his fingers through his hair. 

"Guess I'll… See ya down stairs?" 

Having another body against him as he slept, no matter how soft and delicate, didn’t come as a natural comfort for Alastor. He woke up with a start in the middle of the night, completely unaware of where he was or who he was with. The moment was fleeting and Fat Nuggets stirred at the same time. The piglet did his best to reassure Alastor with a wiggle, and a dull glow of his spots illuminating the room warmly. He looked to Angel, carefully curled around him and fell victim to the peaceful and expressionless look on his face. Alastor took stock of the way it made his chest swell.

Alastor tightened his arm around Angel and sunk in, pressing a kiss into his hair before drifting back off. Something felt unsafe about it, staying in Angel’s room like this. A burst through the door and everyone would know. He pondered over what they’d think and how much he wouldn’t care, or how he’d deny it if he needed to— until he fell soundly back asleep.

The knock at the door caused sleep drunk ears to go from sagging to erect in an instant. His immediate reaction was to will himself away back into his own room, but Angel cleverly took care of the interruption at the door. Alastor stayed in Angel’s bed, holding his breath with a comforter pulled up to his chin. Fat Nuggets was beginning to chirp and squeak excitedly at the Deer who was awake and attempting to blend in with Angel’s headboard. He tried. Alastor froze, stock still. His eyes widened at the piglet, a silent threat in order to get him to quiet down.

_ Husk _ .

He would have preferred a far more pleasant interruption to his slumber than the Cat who took whiskey in his morning coffee.

After he left, Alastor melted back into the bed and then as if on cue, Angel’s morning affection. He couldn’t bring himself to say no, gripping slender hips with his hands and indulging in things he’d scarcely had before.

“Not if I see you first!” he replied with a grin, laughing his way into his usual disappearing act.

Alastor employed the use of his magic to ready himself for the day and appear downstairs, almost as if on cue. How he knew about the meeting, he wouldn’t confess. Alastor could blame his presence on a need for breakfast and coffee— yet most of the Hotel residents knew that Alastor didn’t make a habit of being up early two days in a row.

He stood reclined against the bar, elbow propped up on the wood. The deep red dress shirt he wore was unbuttoned much in the same way Angel had found it the night he interrupted his nap. Cuffs were rolled to his elbows, forearms revealing the fade from the black of his hands to his strangely hued skin tone. The suspenders were a clever touch—  _ just _ for Angel. He’d  _ have _ to have something to hold onto…

**_Later_ ** .

Sipping at a steaming cup of black, he made an effort to not notice or look at Angel as he came down the stairs to join them. Alastor stayed perfectly quiet in the relaxed ease he found leaning against the bar, but the smile and dig of his eyebrow up into his forehead said something perfectly loud and clear to Angel.

_ You can look, but you can’t touch _ .

Angel made his way downstairs with Fat Nuggets at his heels. He played up tired apathy as he came into the room so as to not let on just how elated he was. He was beaming on the inside, but yawning on the outside. Niffty was spiffing up the lobby and covered in dust and possibly rat guts. Husk was leaned lazily against the bar, eyeing Angel as he came in the room. His suspicion was something Angel was stalwartly ignoring. Charlie and Vaggie were going over the greeting Charlie had prepared and then… 

Then Angel's eyes fell on Alastor and it simply wasn't fair. Angel bit his tongue behind a close mouthed smile and slid into a seat on the couch, perching as he tried his best not to stare. Still, that open bit of shirt and exposed skin was begging to be touched and kissed and… Well. Maybe it was good to exercise one's ability to show self control once in a while but right now, Angel hardly felt like he wanted to. Two could play at this game. Angel would simply have to find a way to get Alastor back, later. 

"So, princess. You wanna tell us about this guest or what? I got shit I need ta do today," Angel cut in. Charlie gave him a nervous smile and Vaggie squeezed her shoulder, offering support and reassurance. 

"Weeeelll…"

Charlie was nervous. She was hesitating. That was enough to put Angel immediately on edge. Whatever she wasn't saying had him wondering who the guest was or if maybe they had backed out. He waited, a single quizzical brow raised in her direction. Charlie fiddled with the hem of her blazer and took a quick look around the room, then back to Angel. 

"As you all know, I want this hotel to be open and accepting of all who seek redemption. It's why I allowed Alastor to stay. I can't turn away anyone who wants to try and do better. So… That’s why I've decided our new guest will be allowed to stay here, under the express condition that he work toward his redemption and if he endangers anyone here, well… Then he'll be ejected but--! I hope that won't happen. I think recent events have really opened his eyes and--"

Angel's patience ran out. 

"Spit it out, princess. Who's the guest?" 

He came off snappier than intended but all her hedging around the subject at hand was making him antsy. He cast a quick glance at Alastor and then his eyes were on Charlie. He wondered if Alastor was as unsettled by her hesitation as he was. 

"It's… Valentino."

Charlie's announcement was met with stunned silence. Angel stared at her in abject horror. This felt like an absolute betrayal. How could she even consider it after everything that she'd seen? How could she--

"Please… Tell me ya jokin'..."

Charlie sighed and looked to Vaggie for support but even Vaggie seemed uncomfortable even if a bit resigned. Angel was stunned. He couldn't believe the  _ audacity  _ of this. He laughed, sharp and full of hurt. 

"You gotta be shittin' me."

"He's not even an overlord anymore. After my dad threw him off the studio roof he's completely broken! I don't think he's dangerous anymore and I already negotiated for safety measures, Angel--" 

"No! Shut up! Shut your fuckin' mouth! You… And all this talk a havin' a heart and carin' about ya people is bullshit! You just want the publicity fa this place by havin' a forma ovalord comin' in! You don't give to shits about my safety or anyone's here or you woulda never invited my  _ rapist  _ to come an' stay!"

Angel was suddenly closing in on ten feet tall, his arms like spindly needles as he approached full demon form. His teeth were razors and his eyes blazed red. Angel was  _ panicking  _ and on one swift motion he stood, lifted the couch, and sent it careening across the lobby. 

"Your pet project is the only thing that's important to ya… So consider this me…  _ checking the fuck out. _ " 

Angel's voice took on an inhuman hiss and in a blind fear induced rage he tore down the hall, wallpaper tearing away as he scraped against it to fit through. Fat Nuggets squealed and cowered behind Alastor's legs as Angel disappeared. 

Charlie's eyes welled as she started to chase after him, but Vaggie held her hand, forcing her to let him go. 

"Give him some time to calm down, babe. We can talk to him later."

Charlie nodded and wandered off to her own corner of the hotel with Vaggie at her side. The sounds of Angel trashing his room echoed through the vents, the muffled smashes occasionally making their way to the lobby. 

Husk opened a bottle of whiskey and poured two fingers for himself and eyed Alastor while Niffty began cleaning again. As far as disasters went, it was one of the more peaceful ones they'd seen recently, but the discomfort was palpable in the air. 

“ _ Braaaavo _ , Charlie, my dear!” the congratulations he provided was in one long breath and drawn out, changing in pitch and tone.  _ Theatrics _ . He appeared on top of the bar and crossed his legs. He cheered Charlie on with an emphatic swing of his mug in her direction. He had Fat Nuggets tucked under one of his arms in order to quell some of the terror radiating off of the little pig. 

“Why I haven’t seen such a display of sheer, unbridled rage since the last time I visited the theatre!” Alastor chirped, looking at Fat Nuggets with a jovial smile. He was rubbing salt in the wound on purpose. To the rest of the Hotel Staff, he had no reason to care about who checked in or out but Alastor was livid— boiling with malevolence over the news.

How  _ could—  _ how  **_dare_ ** she.

“A performance fit for the books!” he said, watching a retreating Charlie and Vaggie “What a  _ knack  _ that girl has for making people angry,” Alastor half-said to Husk, but well within her capability of hearing. 

“If only _ I _ were such a muse,” Alastor said with a laugh afterwards for punctuation. He was  _ seething _ . He bore holes into the back of her head when he was certain no one else would see. He was angry for Angel  _ and  _ for himself. Valentino was no longer a threat, but the things he had done— they were unforgivable. He’d never find redemption. Alastor would make sure of it. 

“You make me pretty fuckin’ angry daily, bud,” Husk replied curtly.

Alastor shoved his mug in his direction. Whiskey—  _ now _ .

“Startin’ early with me?” he said with a cluck of laughter. He poured a few glugs of it into Alastor’s mug and set the bottle back on the counter, grasping the edge of the wood with his paws. “You really think he’s checking out?”

“Who, now?” he asked, turning his head with a tight smile. Alastor took a sip of his spiked coffee and gritted his teeth. 

Play dumb.  _ Manipulate. _

“What do you mean, who? You fuckin’  _ know  _ who,” Husk explained, gesturing down the hall Angel Dust tore down.  _ Duh _ .

“Hmm,” Alastor replied, feigning disinterest. As much as he wanted to stop and comfort Angel, appearances had to be kept up. Especially now, when it was only going to get worse. “I suppose it  _ would  _ tarnish the Hotel’s reputation if Charlie’s first foray into redemption were to check out before finding atonement.” No, Angel couldn’t go. Alastor didn’t know what he’d do with himself if he left. Still, the charade had to continue.

“Why don’t  _ you  _ go talk to him?” he suggested with a bright smile, knowing how Husk would react. It would give him the much needed excuse to go himself.

“Me? No,  _ hell  _ no— he’d probably bite my head off and use my throat as a fleshlight or some shit. You’re the one keepin’ this shitheap of a Hotel standin’,  _ you  _ go,” Husk replied, throwing up his hands. He wanted nothing to do with  _ that  _ display.

It worked as perfectly as Alastor hoped.

He stood outside of Angel’s room with Fat Nuggets and pressed a hand to the barely cracked door. It was dark inside, but the glow of his eyes cut through some of the shadowy fog. Alastor grasped the edge and pushed, calling for Angel quietly as he stepped past the threshold. Fat Nuggets followed behind on the floor and oinked before sniffing around the floor. Alastor was well aware of what a frenzying demon was capable of and kept himself on high alert as he put himself several steps away from the entrance.

“ _ Angel _ ,” he called, looking around the vast darkness that enveloped his room. Even Alastor had cause for concern. In the middle of a massive eight legged spider’s den, there wasn’t much room to move around. What was that? Web? A flame ignited in his hand for him to get a better look and he turned around, searching for where Angel was inevitably holed up.

Deep in the midst of an orb shaped web, a soft pink glow emanated. The whole room was destroyed and enveloped in spider silk. All light from the outside world was blocked out. Angel was curled in the fetal position deep in his web cocoon. Fat Nuggets trotted over, sniffling around through the chaos and simply crawled into the hole without hesitation. Angel's angular arms curled around the little hellpig. If he heard Alastor he didn't show any sign of it. He was buried in web, sobbing softy. A small sad oink sounded from within the webbing and Angel made an inhuman rattling sound. He hissed as he cried and the webs trembled with every movement he made. 

Eventually, Fat Nuggets left the web to perch at Alastor's feet. He oinked very pointedly. Finally, Angel found his voice. 

"Sorry for tha mess."

Several bright glowing eyes peaked out of the dark depths of web and Angel pried himself out of it. All limb and extended mandibles as he withdrew from the dark. His gaze cast a soft pink haze over the darkened room. Slowly, Angel shrank, extra limbs retracted, and his beastly form shrank into his familiar lanky form. 

He stepped over web and Nuggets until he was in Alastor's space and without asking permission, wound his arms around him and clung to him, burying his face against Alastor's shoulder. A fresh wave of tears fell from his eyes as he tried to find something to center him again. He'd lost himself, but Alastor was a beacon, bringing him back. 

"What am I gonna do, Al?"

Misfortune and sadness often brought Alastor a great deal of pleasure, yet when he heard the tears of the cocoon swaddled spider he felt none of it. The relationship he had with anguish wasn’t an intimate one, but he felt it color the inky blackness of his anger. It was an unpleasant reunion for Alastor to feel such a thing. He was powerless in the face of Angel’s despair. He never wanted to feel powerless again, alive or dead— yet, here he was.

Alastor watched the bundle of web shudder and distort as Angel crawled out of it. He was an impressive thing. Glowing eyes and delicately horrifying mandibles. Beautiful and terrifying all at once.

Angel draped himself over him, and clung tight— but it simply wasn’t enough. Alastor desperately wanted to strip all of the agony away and it showed in the way he met Angel’s clawing with unquestioning physical consolation. Standing there simply wasn’t enough. He clung to Angel as he reclined, pulling him up and onto him as a cluster of smooth black arms sprouted from the ground to cushion them both in an inky nest. Alastor kept Angel on his lap, holding his face and wiping away hot tears while silently pleading for it to stop.

Caring for Angel hurt in an unfamiliar way and Alastor hated Valentino for it.

“I wouldn’t mind if you calmed down, first,” he replied selfishly. He wasn’t good at this. These efforts were like an atrophied muscle, desperately trying but inevitably failing. “I don’t care for seeing you cry,  _ Anj _ ,” Alastor added softly, trying to smile. He was confused by how to go about this, but Angel made him want to try. It was difficult not to joke or make a display of theatrics in order to distract him from the problem. Employing his usual tactics weren’t going to work here.

Maybe, try— a little bit, at least. If only just to see him smile for a moment.

“Your redecorating skills are impeccable,” Alastor offered, searching his face for something other than sadness. It was so strange to him to share in this with him. There was no reason for him to be upset, but Angel’s grief was like a cancer spreading between them.

He let silence do the talking for the next bloated moment, but he doted and pet Angel’s hair, holding him close and kissing him sweetly. Affection would be worth a try. Alastor would try anything in order to get the spider tether back to the ground.

“Would you like to know what I would do?” he asked rhetorically against the shell of Angel’s ear. He brought himself into view and looked at the beautiful mess situated in his lap with a smile that twisted darkly at its corners.

“ _ Prey _ .”

_ Revenge _ .

Positioned in the middle of a wealth of convenience. Humiliation done within close proximity. It didn’t speak to redemption in the slightest, but Alastor was far beyond that now. Angel’s distress sealed it.

Alastor's efforts didn't go unrewarded. In fact, Angel managed a small chuckle at the joke he made about the state of his room. He wiped at his eyes and sank into the inky warmth of Alastor surrounding him. Were he in better shape he'd have joked back about the tentacles but he was far too exhausted to manage it. He stroked his fingers over Alastor's chest, trying to offer some kind of comfort in return and show he was attempting to calm himself. It was no small feat. 

"Sounds so simple when ya say it like that," Angel whispered. It wasn't. Angel had still made a deal with Valentino and their terms hadn't been fulfilled. They never really would be until one of them died. Valentino had sway over Angel, even now. Distance was what kept him safe, but now that was out the window. He took a deep, steadying breath and then slowly exhaled. His webs began to melt and recede as Angel's mind quieted. 

"I know I said I was gonna be careful about… that word but… How do you break one? A… A deal?"

He clutched Alastor's shirt in his hand, seeking the deer's eyes with own. When he found Alastor's deep red gaze, Angel attempted to look resolute. 

"I want out…  _ really _ out."

Angel's phone started to ring.

That laugh held Alastor’s hope in it— that his beautifully delicate spider wasn’t beyond mending for the day. They hadn’t even had a proper breakfast yet and their state of affairs were beyond sad. Quiet concern hung off of Alastor’s brow as he watched Angel begin to collect himself. It was better, but the worrying he did by smoothing his hands over Alastor’s chest did nothing to shrink the knot of unease sitting in the pit of his stomach.

Alastor listened and watched Angel speak with acute attention, nodding and adjusting his head to chase eye contact with him. The inquiry he made with the addition of a  _ specific  _ word had Alastor struggle for footing again.

“ _ Angel _ ,” and it was a warning. These were secrets that felt reckless to share. If everyone knew how the terms and conditions could be bent, broken and abused— there would be chaos for Alastor and any other demon that dealt with contracts and deals.

His gaze shifted away and he stalled, having an inner argument with himself over divulging this kind of information to Angel. He was already implicated in shaking up the power dynamic in hell, but this was going to tip his involvement over the edge. The lump in his throat was swallowed and his grin pulled tight,  _ almost  _ a grimace.

The rarest of Alastor’s displays.

“ _ Three _ ,” and he paused, conflicted. Alastor winced briefly and licked his teeth behind a tight mouth and set his jaw several times. His display was an accurate display of how difficult this was for him.

“There are only three ways to dissolve a deal,” Alastor couldn’t look at Angel as he sold himself out. “You may either  _ fulfill  _ it, make a  _ new  _ one with a more powerful entity, or you  _ trick  _ your way out of it.” 

Angel listened intently, ignoring the shrill chime of his phone. He felt bad enough for asking and the answer only made him feel worse. Fulfill, trade up, or trick your way out. The last was next to impossible, given the exact nature of the deal. Angel was at a disadvantage, entirely. He didn't want to consider what might happen if he tried to and failed. Val was weak but the deal still gave him power. 

He closed his eyes and nodded. 

"Well… Then I guess… I…" 

He didn't know. He didn't know what to do. He knew what he didn't want to do, which did very little to help his situation. He sighed and sat up right, shifting to get a better look at Alastor. He gently took Alastor's face in his hands. 

"Enough'a my… Blubberin'..."

He nodded and swallowed the last of his tears, not letting them fall. Avoidance was what he'd do for now. It was all he could do. At least until he found a permanent solution that didn't involve making a deal with Alastor. He knew that was an option. He didn't want it, but… No. He forced himself to not think about it. 

"I want outta this hell hole for a while. Lemme take ya ta breakfast?" 

His phone began to ring again. Angel wiped the last bit of dampness from his cheeks and sniffed a bit. He was doing the best he could to reach for normalcy. A moment later he realized that he was asking Alastor on a date and had the good sense to blush. 

"If ya… If ya want. I need ta… freshen up first."

He wished that he had another answer for Angel, but he knew intimately that there was no other way to get out of what he was tangled up with. Alastor didn’t want to entertain the second option despite his earlier offer. That would have complicated things more than they already were.

The ringing of Angel’s phone was like a guest that was uninvited, interrupting their conversation incessantly. There were certain conveniences that technology provided, but Alastor didn’t understand most of them. To always be reachable seemed like a burden and privacy was something Alastor always valued.

Privacy that he wouldn’t have by going out with Angel Dust in public. They would have to be clever—  _ very _ clever.

“Go out?” he replied with a pleased lilt in his voice, unfolding himself up to standing while the tentacles receded back into the floor. “A splendid idea! I believe we  _ both  _ could use some fresh air! I haven’t lammed off with someone out of this Hotel in ages,” Alastor would have to clean himself up as well. His fingers felt  _ salty _ .

“And just where do you suppose we go in order to not raise suspicion?” Alastor asked. They were still being secretive about all of this, weren’t they? Was it only until the dust settled? The parameters hadn’t exactly been discussed, but it would come in time. Until then, Alastor had assumed that they would be tight lipped.

Relief spread through Angel as Alastor accepted the invitation. He wasn't entirely sure when they would be safe bringing the relationship forming between them into the open but it was still new enough that it felt like something delicate that needed protecting. Angel picked up his phone to check the caller ID. Lucifer. He fucked it away. He'd call back in a moment. Alastor was his focus right now. 

"There's this little hole in the wall joint on the edge a town… it's quiet. More private. Called Mal's. They do a great brunch an' cabaret on Tuesdays. Used to go there when I needed to get away from…"

Angel left that hanging. It was obvious who Angel often needed to escape. It was a spot frequented by hellborn folks. Most who earned a spot here never made it out that way which made it a perfect spot to avoid other demons. He waved his hand and his webs began to dissipate, glowing and then dissolving. 

"Sneakin' out for a date… kinda fun, right?" 

“A clean sneak!” he gleaned, a phrase dripping in nostalgia. He waved a finger in the air, cleaning himself up. Even though they’d be at the frayed edges of Pentagram City, Alastor would do his best to look not quite himself. A dark slim cut blazer, hiked as high as his sleeves appeared on his frame. It was long enough to hide his tail but not flatten it. Instead of a monocle, a pair of small black wire rim glasses perched on his nose.

Alastor gathered some of his hair and tied it back haphazardly, a little messy but the desired effect was achieved. Casual, with a good deal of neck and chest for Angel to ogle. The first night he’d caught him like this he didn’t understand Angel’s nervous laughter— but  _ now _ …

He did it on purpose. Afterall, a hole in a wall  _ did  _ sound rather casual.

“You’re right, it  _ does  _ sound like fun! And I  _ do  _ believe we are currently overdue for some,” Alastor explained, watching the webs disappear. It didn’t help the damage he’d caused, as evidenced by the broken glass of Angel’s vanity mirror.

_ That  _ wouldn’t do. Angel needed that.

Alastor stretched a hand out and a green light appeared where vacancies were in the reflection. It poured through the web like cracks and began to mend itself. It was fresh in new, but he’d never let Angel know that he could now use it as a one way window into Angel’s room. It was insurance. With Valentino’s presence looming, Angel’s safety was of the utmost importance.

“Shall I meet you there?” he asked, putting his hands in his pockets as he waited. They couldn’t leave together, after all— they  _ were  _ sneaking out.

Alastor managed to find new and impressive ways to rile Angel up every day it seemed. For a man who wasn't all that keen on sex he sure did know how to make Angel  _ want _ . He drank in the sight and tucked it away for later. He'd have to make a point to look good right back. 

"Thanks," he said, preening in front of his mended mirror. He moved into Alastor's space and pecked his cheek. "I'll see ya there."

He waited for Alastor to make his exit before calling Lucifer back while digging through his closet. Something equally casual, but coquettish. He found a cream number in the back just as Lucifer picked up. 

" _ Anthony… I hope you have a very good reason why you didn't answer my call." _

"I do. Charlie just informed me of who th' new guest is. I… Was a little torn up. Won't happen again, ya majesty."

_ "You're right. It won't. Who's the newcomer?"  _

"Valentino."

There was a long silence in which Angel wondered what was running through Lucifer's mind. He slipped into the gown. It's tight waist and flared A-Line shape allowed him to lean into his natural femininity. It had a very classic 50s pinup appeal that made him feel put together and appealing without being lewd. Something tasteful. He tended to his hair next, startled when Lucifer finally spoke again. 

_ "Unfortunate for you. Thank you for the update. What does Alastor think of this?"  _

"I don't know. But I can find out for you."

_ "Good. See to it that you do." _

"Anything else ya majesty?" 

_ "Yes. Please call me Lucifer. Majesty feels so formal." _

__ Angel felt something cold and heavy drop into the pit of his stomach. 

"Of course, Lucifer. Anythin' ya want."

_ "Perfection. We'll talk soon." _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo. Ah hahaha. Things are definitely ramping up. We're just about halfway through the fic now! Wheee! Thanks to everyone who's left feedback so far and stuck with us! This chapter is full of really... really inappropriate flirting. So... Yay?

Lucifer disconnected and Angel worked through his nerves by curling his hair so it framed his face and slipped on a pair of rose colored glasses. Once he felt put together he slipped out of the hotel and caught a cab across town to meet Alastor. He stepped up to the quiet little Cafe, clutching his purse close as he took a quick glance around. No one was paying him any mind. Good. Just as he'd hoped. 

Much as he wanted to talk to Alastor about the phone call, all thoughts of that vanished when he laid eyes on him again. 

* * *

The streets were hazy with brimstone per usual and whatever light that cut through from Hell’s mockery of a sun barely cut through. Sidewalks were uneven and cracked. There were homeless and drunkards lining the streets and danger waited around every corner and alleyway. Alastor rarely traversed the outside world on foot, but once he got out of the immediate reach of the Hotel he decided to take a more conventional approach to travel. The last time he had been out was the night Angel’s punishment was put on full display for all of Hell to see. Even though the stench of the air was acrid and thick, it was as fresh as Alastor was going to get— and he  _ needed _ it.

There was so much to process.

The diner arrived on him with the flickering red glow of the neon sign shining down on him.  _ Mal’s _ . He went in and waited, happy to be unrecognized no matter how signature the red and black mop of hair was on his head.

“Do I know you?” the hostess asked, leading him to a table. Alastor’s laugh was hushed and practiced.

“If you’re trying to get my number, darling, let me assure you— I don’t have one,” he offered, grinning toothily as he sat.

Coffee came next, bitter and strong.

_ "Hey stranga. Come here often?" _

Angel’s voice cut through the thought he had lost himself in—something about Valentino and Lucifer. His ears perked up and he pulled his attention from the mug in his hand to the tall frame standing besides his table. Alastor turned his head and—

..  **_gaped_ ** .

Without any of his trademark finesse he did the only instinctive thing his brain could supply him with. Alastor stood up.

“No,” he replied with a grin, smoothing a hand down the front of his shirt. Gawking was indecent, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of him. His mind played back the frank and ridiculous reply. Alastor bristled momentarily and averted his eyes. 

“You knew that,” Alastor said with a laugh, beginning to soften from his rigid state. “Here, let me get that for you,” he began moving over to the opposite side of the table and pulled out Angel’s chair. Once he sat, Alastor guided the seat back in and leaned down next to Angel’s shoulder from behind. He pressed a kiss beneath Angel’s ear, at the crest of his jaw. Alastor couldn’t help himself.

“And just how was your conversation?” he asked from across the table, clasping his hands neatly in front of himself as he looked at Angel. 

Alastor's reaction felt like an absolute victory. He'd caught the other demon off guard and it was oh so sweet. How they'd gotten here was still such a blur to Angel. The first words they'd exchanged, and now this. Sitting at a little Cafe that sported a bit of old world charm making fools of one another in the best way possible. He tilted toward that little kiss and allowed himself to bask for the moment. Reality, of course, has other plans. 

Angel ordered a coffee as well and vaguely perused the menu that he knew by heart. The phone call. Somehow, Lucifer managed to convey so much with so little. Angel frowned a bit. He didn't want to spend too much time on this but he would do what was necessary. They needed to be away from prying eyes to have it. Namely, ones residing at Hazbin Hotel. 

Angel's eyes raked over Alastor, letting the very enjoyable view soften the blow of having this conversation. His gaze was brief but suggestive. He was being obvious in his appreciation for a reason. 

"The big man was callin'. It went… fine. Can't get a read on the guy. He was curious to know what you thought of the new guest," Angel took a sip of his coffee and glanced around. No one was listening in but this still felt dangerous to discuss, even when hedging the details. He leaned forward a bit, tilting his head toward one shoulder. His nerves were hard to hide. 

"What should I tell him?" 

Angel was willing to lie for Alastor, to the king of hell no less, should Alastor ask it of him. When the waitress came back asking for their orders, Angel flipped to his more public facing demeanor like a light switch. All charm and no room for flaws. The only recognition he got here was for being a regular and he liked it that way. After she's taken their orders and stepped away, it was back to the topic at hand. 

"There was somethin' else that came up, too. Has me feelin' a little odd. Maybe I'm just bein' paranoid."

It was time to take the opportunity to finally come clean and bring Angel up to speed. Lucifer and Alastor were entangled far more than Angel had come to know. He had an advantage in the situation in the way Angel presented information about him to Lucifer. In turn, Alastor helped him navigate the intricacies of dealing with Lucifer’s eccentricities— as well as everything else. The angle wasn’t manipulation, but he had found it difficult to be forthright about it with everything developing as quickly as it did. Now that he had the proper opportunity to catch him up to speed, Alastor wouldn’t keep pulling the wool over Angel’s eyes anymore, unintentionally or otherwise.

Angel deserved far better than that— better than ignorance.

“What he  _ really _ wants to know, Angel, is if I’m simply going to keep my word,” he replied, averting his attention elsewhere. “The night I decided to make the move you so graciously laid out for me, Lucifer found it in his best interest to intervene.”

It wasn’t the first time they had met, and Alastor knew that it wouldn’t be the last.

“I was  _ so _ close,” Alastor bitterly whispered aloud to himself, shutting his eyes and balling a hand into a fist on the table. A microphone hissed. He sighed evenly and walked himself back from a foul mood at the mention of Vox’s brush with absolution.

“However, it would be within my best interest to not make another attempt. I believe he doesn’t want me to kill either of them, no matter how capable I am,” he explained, tapping his fingernails on the ceramic coffee mug in irritation. Confession aside, there was still more that needed to be said. Alastor sighed and found careful eye contact with Angel. He didn’t want him to be mad. He had hardly meant to hold onto all of this.

“Perhaps I should have mentioned it sooner, but the window of opportunity failed to open,  _ mon Anj _ . You have my apologies,” Alastor was sincere, sheepish as grinning behind delicate lenses.

He waited a moment for his apology to clear the air before moving on.

“You mentioned something else, didn’t you?” he asked, reaching for one of Angel’s hands from across the table. “What else are you worried about?”

Nothing really surprised Angel anymore, any maybe he should have been upset that Alastor hasn't mentioned this before, but instead he just internalized that tidbit of missing information. It gave him necessary context but brought up other questions that Alastor wasn't qualified to answer. He filed them away, suddenly snapping back to the moment when Alastor apologized with that new nickname sounding all too sweet on his lips. He nodded, his expression still a bit blank, but slowly, a smile formed as their fingers intertwined on the table top. 

The other thing?  _ Oh… Right. _

"He wants me to call him by his name. Says his title is too formal," Angel admitted. Now that he said it aloud, his cheeks darkened and he ducked his head, avoiding Alastor's direct gaze. He felt foolish now. It hardly seemed serious, but something in his gut told him otherwise. 

"Like I said I'm just probably… Bein' paranoid."

The thing that made Angel so uncomfortable was the sudden renegotiation of where they stood. The request for informality, as if they were friends, brought back memories that were once again fresh on his mind. Memories of his first run in with Valentino.

"Anyway. Doesn't matta. Still don't know what you want me to tell him… I don't think he'd buy indifference."

Angel didn't realize he'd begun squeezing Alastor's hand and loosened his grip. He stroked his fingers over Alastor's palm and shook his head. No matter what Lucifer really wanted, Angel wanted to help shield Alastor from it if he could. It felt like the thing to do given their new found entanglement. Angel had something other than himself he wanted to protect. This was it, right here. He looked at Alastor with warm, affectionate eyes, drinking him in and trying not to picture Alastor as smited as Valentino had been. One decision different in Angel's part and he would have been. 

He reluctantly let Alastor's hand go as their food arrived and changes topic, telling Alastor about the last time he'd been here and how he'd gotten ropes into learning a little burlesque from one of the performers that night and by the end of the evening, he's wound up on stage singing Minnie the Moocher in a corset and feather boa with some older demon dame who just wanted a taste of the good old days. It was a performance that stuck out in his memory as one he'd loved. 

"I'd do it again in a heartbeat before I ever grabbed ankle in a studio again. It's so much more… Artful," he admitted over breakfast, and with a wink, he teased a possible private show for Alastor, sometime in the future. That was better. Much better chit chat for a date. Flirting and fun. He needed a little of that before they faced what awaited them back at the hotel. 

Angel  _ wasn’t  _ being paranoid. In the handful of times Alastor had run into Lucifer, their exchanges had been questionable at best. Strange pet names, suggestive physical interaction, playful warnings and words that involved flirtation. Alastor liked being left alone, especially at the top— where it was  _ supposed  _ to be lonely. It wasn’t that way anymore given the sudden shift in power and relationship dynamics, but that was hardly information Lucifer needed. To Alastor, he believed that all he wanted was to keep tabs on him to make sure he abided by his warning. Either way, it was more involvement from Lucifer than Alastor wanted.

The more he thought about it, however, the more the urge to feed his habit for drama and theatrics arose. What if Angel said something interesting— something interesting enough to make Lucifer squirm? A detail harmless enough to cause Lucifer to stumble a step in his current course of action, but nothing enough to derail him. A little lost sleep sounded like Alastor’s kind of playful revenge.

How positively  _ entertaining!! _

“ _ Ohh _ , I don’t know— why don’t you tell him I look like I’m up to something?” Alastor proposed, nudging his fork carefully against his food. “In regards to your concern regarding informality?” he offered, a shoulder shrugging. Alastor shook his head and looked off in the distance. That was just  _ Lucifer _ , going off of Alastor’s own experience. It set off alarm bells, but no louder than they were already ringing.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you perform,” Alastor interjected as the conversation moved into far more relaxed and playful territory. They had spent enough time on misgivings and Lucifer for eons. It was time for something lighter.

“I imagine it would be quite  _ something  _ to see,” he mentioned, giving Angel a cockeyed grin. “Except, isn’t there some sort of rule about touching?” Alastor gestured briefly, wiggling his fingers in the air.

“You already make it very difficult for me to keep my hands to myself, Angel,” Alastor confessed, grinning with a hint of menace. “Unless you’re suggesting a more intimate kind of show,” he paused, folding his hands in his lap to look as harmless and coy as possible.

“Where by the end I can finally hear what it sounds like for you to be completely taken apart by my hands,” Alastor’s eyes glowed with warm light. “I wonder, is that melody as pretty as you look,  _ cher _ ?”

He sat there, looking every bit like the hellcat that got the cream. That wasn’t flirting, it was just plain  _ forward _ and Alastor wanted to see Angel’s reaction to it in such a public setting.

Alastor skipped light flirtation and went right for the kind of forward talk that made him horn under the collar. Whether he intended to ruffle Angel's fur a bit or entice him, Angel wasn't sure. What he did know was that such fowardness deserved the same in turn, and Angel was well practiced at it. It was bold of Alastor, and in such an exposed space… Angel leaned forward, elbows propped on the table and fingers threaded together beneath his chin. One brow quirked, eyes half lidded, and a sly half smile made for a look that said Alastor would have to try harder to leave Angel feeling at all scandalized. 

"If you want a private show, I'm more than happy ta accommodate," Angel spoke slow and deliberate, choosing his words carefully and specifically for Alastor. His voice was low, syrupy sweet, and the glimmer of mischief in his eyes said he wasn't done yet. 

"I think you'd be a perfect gentleman… keepin' ya hands to yourself until I was done. Anticipation is part of the dance,  _ presentatore _ . It'll make the moment you do get ya hands on me much sweeter."

He straightened up and leaned back in his chair, nudging his ankle against Alastor's, suggesting the way his legs were slightly splayed beneath the table. No. Still not done. 

"And when I moan fa' you, sayin' ya name like an unholy prayer, ova an' ova again, all that waitin' will be worth it. To have me squirmin' unda ya touch until I'm  _ beggin'  _ for relief."

He withdrew that small point of contact and smiled sweetly. 

"So you just lemme know when, and I'll sing for ya in ways you'll never forget."

Now he was done. 

It was apparent that Angel was far more practiced at this kind of clever wordplay than Alastor, but the radio demon was a quick study— no matter how taken aback he was by Angel taking the bait and devouring it. Pointed shoulders had raised slightly as Alastor’s interest undoubtedly piqued with every word of Angel’s salacious reply. As he listened, the smile on his face grew darker and far more heated.

He’d devour Angel if the other wasn’t careful— and it wouldn’t matter  _ where _ they were.

Alastor leaned in, poised and ready to reply. Something snaked along the inside of Angel’s leg, caressing briefly before snaking around gently and  _ squeezing. _

“You realize, I don’t even have to touch you in order to—“

“How is everything, Sugar?” the cyclopian demon asked, refilling Alastor’s coffee.

He shot an unhinged glare at her and his smile tightened dangerously. The sound of a speaker popping and hissing filled the air around him. Whatever presence beneath the table released Angel and escaped back into the realm it had been summoned from. He was properly ruffled, courtesy of his own doing and Angel Dust. Alastor leaned back in his chair and cleared his throat, politely averting his attention away from her.

“The bill, if you wouldn’t mind,” which sounded strained in its politeness, but Alastor powered through using his static laden tone.

_ Oh.  _ Angel had the good sense to look a least a little scandalized as the waitress approached. The sensation of Alastor's summoned tentacle left goosebumps all over. He grinned across the table, openly salacious.  _ That  _ was interesting. It was something he definitely wanted to explore, but that would have to come later. When the bill came by, Angel paid and ripped generously, then stood and offered Alastor his arms. 

"We can't go back t'getha, which is a shame. I have to stop by the studio… but… I'll see ya t'night? You know where ta find me."

It was a shame to have to part ways, but Angel did so with one quick kiss to Alastor's lips. It felt dangerous to steal one in the open but he couldn't help himself. 

"We'll continue this conversation lata."

Hesitantly, he bid Alastor farewell and hailed a cab back into the city. The meeting at the studio took all day, but by the end of it, Angel had spent the stipend that Lucifer gave him on acquiring it and renovating it in its entirety. The project was underway, and that was one less thing to deal with. He knew what awaited him back at the hotel and he wasn't ready for it, but he never would be. 

At least Alastor was something to look forward to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold onto your hats, it only gets messier from here.

The dynamic of the Hotel changed in a matter of hours. Even though a handful of its occupants spent the day making themselves busy, the change happened whether they were present or not.

Valentino, broken and claimless, joined the wayward ranks of the Hotel.

The tension swelled and at its peak, Alastor found himself back within the walls of The Hazbin. He entered, wreaking of sulfur and stale blood, but bloated with an otherworldly satiation. Alastor radiated bravado, stalking in with a wide crooked smile and eyes that sat deep within his skull.

It was unspoken but apparent that he had made use of his time after he departed from Angel Dust and their shared outing.

“Husker!” he called, peeling off his jacket. “Let me tell you, what an absolute day I’ve had! Why don’t you catch me up to speed over one of my usuals?” Alastor stalked with purpose, looming as he approached. Whatever he had done had colored his spirits with a rusty shade of red and hung on him like a malevolent badge of honor.

“Yeah, and just what the fuck were  _ you _ up to?” he asked, furrowing a mildly concerned eyebrow. “You, uh, you okay?”

“Never better!  _ Now _ , why don’t you make it snappy and give me all the details I missed.” Alastor snapped. His patience was waning.

“... you tippin’?”

“...  _ not likely! _ ”

“Fucking no good…” Husk began to grumble, shoving his paws into the well at the bar. He sighed with irritation and gritted his pointed teeth. Alastor kept shutting him down. “The new guy showed up, Charlie’s been gettin’ him settled in. Vaggie’s bitchin’ about somethin’ or other— I don’t know. I stopped carin’ after they left.”

“Think they said they wanted you to check in with ‘im, since you’re helpin’ run this fuckin’ shitshow.”

“ _ Not _ happening!” Alastor replied with curt enthusiasm, taking a sip of his freshly made drink. Was Husk trying to ruin his mood?

“Just where the fuck have you been anyways? Feels like somebody died in here,” Husk explained, uneasily taking a swig off his never ending supply.

“Does it? And here I thought that wasn’t possible!” he replied, stretching his limbs out with the help of the bar.

“Listen, you ain’t gotta feed me lines, y’know, I know what you get up to,” Husk explained, giving Alastor a knowing glance.

“Then you already know the answer to your incessant prying, now don’t you?” Alastor replied, grinning wildly.

“Yeah, doin’ your weird  _ deal  _ bullshit probably, I’unno. You still eatin’ people?”

Alastor stayed silent, averting his eyes with a long drink.

“ _ Hey _ ,” Husk said, looking to Alastor with a careful look. Valentino was coming down the stairs. Alastor refused to move or acknowledge the encroaching presence. “Guess he’s check in’ in with you whether you fuckin’ like it or not.”

Valentino was a shell of his former self. His presence was sorely lacking after being made into a moth shaped heap by Lucifer. He was smaller, his fur coat a thing of the past, and a trail of soft ruby smoke lead him by the end of a half smoked cigar into the lobby. He had a contract in one hand, one obviously provided by Charlie. Her scrawl was recognizable, even at a distance. This was something, beyond his atrocities, that set him apart from other guests. To her credit, she was making certain that Valentino knew the bounds he had to operate within. Upon seeing Alastor, the moth demon stalled, clutching the contract a little tighter. It took him a moment to recover but when he did, he moved to the bar, and with a bit of trepidation, eased into a seat. 

The silence was deafening. 

It lasted a few long moments before Val pulled out a money clip. He looked through cracked lenses at Husk and swallowed a knot in his throat. He took a deep breath and inclined his head a fraction. 

"Tequila?" 

He braced for whatever might come of his presence and request. Alastor was a looming danger he had mentally prepared to deal with, but one could never truly know with someone like Alastor. 

There was a show in keeping his composure. Alastor’s masked appearance quickly turned into his characteristic visage, pointed shoulders and striped bravado. Giving Valentino any sort of comfortable view of himself would have been too vulnerable of a gesture.

Besides, it was still his signature— he _ killed _ in this. Took over Hell and knocked the three V’s down in this.  _ Armor _ .

It did nothing to quell his anger, but it  _ was _ a barrier between himself and the moth. Husk eyed Alastor’s sudden change before the former Overlord took a seat and rolled his eyes. The ego of the standing rulers of Hell appeared to rub the Cat the wrong way.

“Valentino!” Alastor chirped, turning his practiced poise onto the new guest. “And just how are you settling in? I heard the news and I almost couldn’t believe it!”

“Why it’s almost as if Charlie hand delivered you to my doorstep herself,” he said, resting his hands on Val’s shoulders. “ _ Now _ , do I have to go over the ground rules with you again— or are you well enough informed to  _ stay out of my way?” _ Alastor’s tenor glitched and popped and the weight around Valentino’s shoulders grew with a heavy and otherworldly presence.

It was a threat. 

A serious one.

Alastor's sudden change did little to visibly startle Valentino, but the message was received. Alastor was not going to take these new developments lightly. Valentino tensed under Alastor's hands, teeth clenching so hard he could hear them squeak and bend under the pressure. He didn't move, didn't flinch, but vibrant eyes bore into Alastor's as he took stock of just how imbalanced the power between them was. Valentino had no strength with which to fight back. 

"Don't worry…  _ He's all yours _ . I'm here for a clean slate, ya dig? Not gonna blow up your spot."

He left money in the tip jar and waited patiently for his drink, carefully biting back a smile. 

“How wonderful! Then we’ve come to an agreement!” he replied, putting a hand down solidly on the bar top. Husk reflexively jolted at the sound of it, with the shot glasses he was filling skittering across the solid wood. Alastor’s hand on Valentino’s shoulder tightened.

“And unfortunately for you, my dear boy, I don’t think I quite know what you mean,” he feigned ignorance, taking the shot Husk had poured for himself along with Val’s. Tequila was nothing like anything he had drank before, but he wouldn’t let Val drink alone. The opportunity to  peacock familiarize and make the new guest  un comfortable was too good to pass up for Alastor.

Husk began filling an  _ additional  _ shot glass for himself again and sighed. It was apparent that he didn’t know how to pour a drink without pouring one for himself.

“And what should we toast to? Redemption?” he asked excitedly, raising the small glass dramatically and placing the other into Val’s empty hand. He hung off of Val again, tight and uncomfortable with his arm around his shoulders.

Val exhaled a plume of smoke not quite directly into Alastor's face but close to it. The deep red created a haze around the bar as he let Alastor do what he pleased. There was defiance in the action but his face was calm as could be managed in this kind of tension. Alastor's gambit to make him uncomfortable was working. The way Alastor side stepped the topic of Angel had him curious but he didn't press it. 

"Sure," he rasped, taking the shot without truly engaging in the toast. He set the shot glass down and pressed into Alastor's side, his gold tooth glinting in the green light that emanated from the bar. 

"Before I forget…" 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a little shard of glass and set it on the counter top. He stood, hand trailing down Alastor's chest as he put some distance between them. 

"Vox sends his… Kind regards."

It was a piece of Vox' broken screen. A memento, and a curious offering. 

The front doors of the hotel swung open and still in his attire from brunch, Angel stepped over the threshold. Val's head snapped around to look him over. Angel tensed immediately upon seeing Val there. With Alastor. He was determined to keep his cool. Even if they weren't being public about their entanglement just yet, Angel felt a modicum of safety when he saw Alastor there. Val wouldn't dare step out of line with the Radio Demon present. 

He strode with purpose toward the bar, leaning over it toward Husk. He didn't give the other two demons a single glance. His eyelids dropped and his lips curled at one corner. 

"Hey daddy. Wanna pour me a celebratory drink?" 

He played off any tension he felt as best he could by focusing in on Husk. His back curved, perking his backside up between Alastor and Valentino, as if they weren't even there, but he carefully nudged the toe of his shoe against Alastor's. A brief point of contact to let him know Angel was thinking of him. 

"Yeah yeah… Don't look at me like that. I'll get your damn drink," Husk groped as Angel fluttered his lashes at him. He set to fixing Angel a martini. Val's voice sent a chill down Angel's spine when he spoke. 

"Anglecakes… Ya look good. Guess redemption is treatin' ya right, baby."

Red smoke billowed from sharp teeth and Angel opened his mouth to snap back but nothing came out. He slumped against the bar, crossing his legs at the ankle, staring straight ahead, growing rapidly expressionless. Valentino puffed on his cigar and eventually, Angel nodded. He took his drink from Husk and straightened up. 

"Yeah… It is."

Valentino smiled, curling his tall form around Angel to meet his eyes. Briefly, he glanced at Alastor, and then spoke again. 

"I'd like a chance to… Apologize. When you're ready. We can talk."

Angel tensed from head to toe and took a sip of his drink. His eyes looked somewhere into the middle distance, out of focus. 

Alastor nearly sputtered and choked but the tight line of his smile kept any exclamations of disgust from hitting the air. There were a slew of words that came to mind to describe the taste that assaulted his senses but none of them seemed to fit the description better than  _ green _ . It was sharp— grassy. That was liquor he’d never have again, he was sure of it.

He looked at the shard on the table, careful not to crack the veneer of his smile as the aftertaste in his mouth faded. Valentino’s gesture was curious. Was it an apology or a manipulation? It didn’t matter. Alastor could have been looking at Vox’s severed screen in the lobby and it would have made no difference. Forgiveness would never come— not after what he had done.

Angel’s self-assured presence was a welcome sight as he walked in and strode up to the bar. It came as no surprise when he saw the focus of the room shift entirely from Alastor to Angel. Something like pride welled up inside him as Angel settled in, unshakeable in the presence of his abuser. He’d have to remind him just how magnificent he was later. His beautiful, darling Angel— spinning a delicate web around the thawing muscle residing in his chest. The nudge against his foot was the hint of a kiss he wanted to give him. It would have to suffice for now, especially in front of the former Overlord that  _ still _ had his claws in Angel.

The way that Valentino slunk around Angel and subdued his usually clever mouth made Alastor silently boil. Knowing that the Spider was still the Moth’s was one thing—  _ seeing  _ it, however, was another. Alastor was intimately aware of what was happening. The bargain that they had struck with one another had contingencies built into it by design.  _ Control _ . The best he could do was not react, yet even with all of the power Alastor had, he almost didn’t possess enough to keep his own mouth shut.

“I don’t trust this guy,” Husk said flatly, out of the corner of his fanged mouth to the Radio Demon. 

“Me—” Radio static. “Neither,” Alastor replied, all teeth and silent anger.

Angel manged just narrowly to take a few shaky steps away from the bar to stop his head from spinning. His grasp on his glass was trembling. Oh wait no-- his hand was what was trembling. He looked around the lobby, searching for something, anything, to ground him. Valentino was singularly focused on Angel, watching the way he moved, the way he  _ fought.  _ A small, sly smile curled at one corner of the moth's mouth. Angel's eyes found Alastor. 

Angel's pupils dilated, his breath stalled in his chest, and he clutched his drink a little tighter. He tried to focus in, and slowly lifted his glass to his lips. He drained it in one go and was smiling again. 

"Sure, Val. I'll let ya know," his voice was still strained, but he was trying to keep his head on straight. He cleared his throat and pushed through. 

"Not that any a you care, but as of today, ya lookin' at the owner of the new and up an' comin'  _ Angel Dust Adult Entertainment Studios.  _ So keep the drinks comim' Husk.  _ I  _ feel like celebratin'."

He stepped up to the bar and gently took Alastor by the forearm with one of his secondary hands under the pretense of stepping past him to the bar where he set his glass back down. He gave the briefest of squeezes. 

_ I won't let him get to me.  _

But he stepped back out of Valentino's space immediately while Husk made him another round. 

"So you're not checkin' out, then," Husk deadpanned. Angel huffed and flipped his hair with a flick of his wrist and a toss of his head. 

"An' deny all of ya the pleasure of my company? That'd be a real sin," he winked and whisked up his second drink, only to step away again like Valentino had the plague. "I should probably apologize to Charlie, huh? Poor dame seemed a little startled."

"You were thinkin' of checking out, Angelcakes?" 

Angel shot Valentino a sharp look and his jaw was set, like he was trying to avoid responding. 

There wasn’t a doubt in Alastor’s mind that Angel was fully capable of taking care and watching out for himself— except that Valentino took much of that capability away. All he had to do was simply  _ exist _ in Angel’s space. He knew what it looked like when the strings of entanglement were pulled tight and Angel was doing his best to yank back hard against them. He wouldn’t last— not because of any doubt on Alastor’s behalf, but because it was an inevitability of his and Valentino’s deal. It was a small victory to have Angel at his side, but dread hung on him— how long he'd be able to stay, Alastor didn’t know.

“What wonderful news! A  _ real _ entrepreneur in our midst— I believe I see your name on the marquee already!” he chirped, steamrolling through Valentino’s inquiry. Alastor was pleased, rubbing it in Valentino’s face that his own  _ pet _ was taking his place. “And what a relief it is to hear that we won’t be losing a member of our ragtag band of sinners! Charlie will be overjoyed!”

Whether Angel apologized to her was his own business. Alastor wasn’t exactly pleased with her decision himself.

“I don’t think this day could have possibly turned out any better!” Alastor said, moving passed Angel smoothly with a press of his hand to the small of his back. It was fortunate that he had a reputation for being overly friendly, because the relief he felt by grounding himself with that simple touch made his fingers  _ sing— _ and no one would be none the wiser.

_ I know _ .

A reply for Angel, acknowledging his struggle wordlessly.

“Now, if you’ll excuse, I believe I still have teeth in my teeth,” he excused himself, stepping past Valentino with a pointed look. He needed to retreat and put distance between himself and Valentino. Alastor clutched the shard of Vox’s screen in his hand as he began to leave but lingered against Valentino’s shoulder.

“Behave yourselves, won’t you?”

_ Or else. _

__ Relief flooded Angel as Alastor made physical contact and the way his body relaxed was easy for Valentino to pick up on even in its subtly, but Husk didn't even bat an eyelash. Much as it pained Angel to see Alastor go, he knew they couldn't be tied together at the hip. It would be too damming. Much as he knew the message was meant for Valentino, he spoke up anyway. 

"Awe, Al. I'll be an absolute  _ Angel  _ like always. Cross my heart and hope to die," he winked at the retreating deer and then drowned himself in alcohol. For Valentino's part, he played the part of an absolute gentleman. He wouldn't stop using that damn pet name and the further into drinking Angel got the more he realized that Valentino was what was keeping him in the lobby well past midnight. Husk stayed, and Angel was grateful for it. He couldn't pry himself away no matter how many drinks they shared while Valentino tried to 'catch up' with Angel, asking him prying and damning questions that Angel gave elusive half truth answers to. It was nearly one in the morning when Valentino finally seemed ready to withdraw. 

"Don't forget what I said, Angel. If you wanna talk… we can even negotiate your deal."

Husk's ears perked up and he eyed Angel closely as he gaped at Valentino in his drunken stupor. Angel didn't believe for his ears, but he didn't have a chance to respond before Valentino tipped Husk one last time and bid them a goodnight. 

The lobby was painfully quiet and still. A few agonizing moments after Valentino was gone, Angel finally broke. He collapsed against the bar and dug his fingers into his hair, tears welling in his eyes. Playing nice with Valentino took everything out of him that he'd had left. He wept quietly against the bar top, much to Husk's chagrin. 

"You're gonna damage the lacquer of you keep that up," Husk grunted, pouring Angel a glass of water instead of booze. He reluctantly placed a clawed hand on Angel's shoulder and urged him to drink. Angel drank down every last drop and then held his face in his hands, trying to collect himself. 

"Maybe you should check out," Husk suggested, partly because he didn't want to deal with a sobbing spider at his work station, but mostly because he didn't like the pain this was causing him. 

"I can't," Angel whispered. 

"Why?" 

Angel uncovered his face and met Husk's gaze. 

"I… I can't give up what l have here. I can't let him take it from me."

Husk gave him a withering stare and folded his arms on the bar top and leaning toward Angel. 

"You mean ' _ smiles _ '."

He wasn't asking. Angel felt the weight of that statement and had the good sense to look scandalized. No. He wasn't ready to let anyone into this one little good thing he has all to himself yet. 

"You forget Al ain' inta that?" 

"Shut up. I'm not blind."

Angel stood abruptly, making himself dizzy with the motion. 

"I'm goin' ta bed."

Angel ignored whatever Husk called after him and made his way up the stairs to his room. Once inside he let himself release the breath he'd been holding and immediately began to strip off his clothes. He showered away the day and the crawling sensation under his skin. Scalding water helped him shake the cloudiness of Valentino's influence. With a clearer head he made his way back into his room. Niffty had been through here. Everything was in pristine condition and what had survived of his photographs from the walls were stacked neatly on his vanity. 

Angel took a seat, wrapped in a towel around his waist, and flipped through the photos. Occasionally, his reflection would catch his eye and he kept avoiding it. He couldn't do so forever. Eventually, he set the photos aside and looked at himself. He ran his fingers over his his face, his neck, his chest, refamiliarizing himself with his appearance. He signed and eventually was able to smile. 

"And ta think… I coulda been havin' fun with some tentacles and Al… But nooooo…"

He sighed and touched the mirror, shaking his head. 

"Damnit princess."

Angel stood and tossed his towel over the back of his chair and crawled into bed. Tomorrow would be better. It had to be. 

Alastor made use of the glimpse he could catch of Angel through the mirror he repaired with his magic earlier. He wouldn’t spy for long, but Alastor had to make sure that he’d made it back to his room safely— and without Valentino.

The Spider’s griping caused teeth to emerge behind devilishly taut lips. Little did Angel know that Alastor had every intention of making good on his promise in the diner earlier and that it wasn’t just some facetious attempt at flirtation. The anticipation for employing such creativity would remain tucked inside the caverns of Alastor’s twisted imagination for a later date, but the daydreams it would sneak into would happen much sooner.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we continue. Tread carefully, dear readers. Mind the tags on this work. It's about to get very kinky.

The daydreams would come as a strange sort of relief within the next few days. As Valentino settled in the hotel was rife with tension and the air was laden with the weight of unease. His interactions with Valentino were brief and uncomfortable, but Alastor rarely walked away from them without feeling some kind of victory. It was entertaining at the very least. The Deer made every effort to pin the Moth and put his discomfort on display.

“Alastor!” Charlie bit angrily, a flame in her eye. “You can’t just  _ do  _ things like that!”

“Oh, but I did!” he replied, spreading his arms out wide shrugging proudly.

“Is that a giant bug zapper?” Vaggie asked with a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“It  _ is! _ I had to do a bit of research since it was a bit after my time, but it  _ should _ help with our bug problem!” Alastor explained, tossing a small knick knack from one of the lobby’s bookshelves into it as a demonstration. The electric snap was violent and bright, casting a glow on Alastor’s wild and self-pleased smile.

“Al, we don’t have a—” Charlie began, exhausted from the conversation.

“He means Val, Charlie,” Vaggie explained, putting an arm on her shoulder.

“ _ Ooh!!  _ Do I smell  _ mothballs _ ?” Niffty said with an energetic sniff, moving in to clean the ash on the ground from the freshly incinerated wooden figurine.

“ _ Alastor! _ ” Charlie snapped with exasperation, her shoulders rising with her frustration. “Please do not summon giant death traps in the Hotel lobby!” She was surprised she had to say it.

Alastor rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers.  _ Fine _ . He began walking away, humming to himself down the hallway as Husk poked his head out from the bar—  _ hungover _ . He grabbed for another bottle but came out with a handful of little white pearls. Husk sniffed and recoiled, disgusted.

“Are these fuckin’ mothballs?”

Alastor continued to create chaos for Val, albeit under the guise of playfulness. It lightened some of the tension in its ridiculousness but there were darker things that he wanted to commit. With Lucifer’s warning and Charlie adamant about his redemption, his trickery would have to suffice. Some days it was playful wordplay, others it was an inconvenience and it fit in nicely in between the moments he’d get to steal Angel’s attention for himself.

It became braver, tucked around corners and against the walls, in the Lobby when no one was present in the late hours of the night, the foyer couch, the kitchen counter. They had all the time in the world but none to spend together. He craved their stolen moments, wishing for the next when the last one was only just over. Angel Dust was proving to be just as addicting as his name suggested.

Tonight, Alastor had occupied himself outside of the Hotel, busying himself in the concern of  _ dealings _ and when he came back he was vibrating like a freshly struck tuning fork. He nearly glowed as he stripped out of his jacket. As he passed by Charlie she shivered, giving him a long traveling glance as he walked away from her. He was ice cold and it trailed after him like smoke.

“Busy night?” she asked, laughing hesitantly.

“Incredibly! Why, I never thought so much fun was possible!” he replied, gesturing in the air with his free hand. “You wouldn’t believe how flammable some people are!”

His mood having improved significantly beyond what he'd anticipated, Angel was doing quite well all things considered. Valentino had been thwarted almost every time he tried to close in on Angel. Alastor's shenanigans had created a pleasant buffer that lead to him hiding away more and more. Tonight, he felt like he was walking on a cloud. He descended from his room on the heels of a successful conference call with some new talent for the studio in a fur trimmed, baby pink, chiffon robe over a little white satin negligee. He was dressed down, relaxed, not a stitch of makeup on his face, and freshly showered. It all spoke to just how untouchable he felt. 

He swept toward the bar and dropped into a seat. Alastor looked radiant. Whatever he'd been up to, it looked good on him. Angel was still mad at Charlie, deep down, but he wouldn't snub her. Especially when he wasn't supposed to be after Alastor's attention. 

"What's shakin', princess?" 

Charlie gave Angel a slightly uncomfortable smile as she tore her eyes away from Alastor and tried not to think too hard on the implications of 'people' and 'flammable'. 

"Angel! How'd the conference go?" 

She sat with him at the bar, devoting all her attention to him. Angel glanced over her shoulder, raising a brow at Alastor. 

_ What did you do?  _

He smiled just the same and propped his chin in his hand. 

"It went great. Gonna start workin' on d-- er… Contracts for the new talent this week. Things are goin' so smoothly. Havin' people callin' me sir for a change isn't quite doin' it fa me, usually prefer it tha other way around--" 

"Ah hah hah! Great!" Charlie flushed and shook her head. She cut him off and stood quickly. "Very happy for you. I ah… I should go check in Vaggie!" 

She trotted out of the lobby as quick as her feet could carry her. Angel grinned after her and then his eyes were on Alastor again. 

"You sure know how to clear a room, Legs."

Angel startled and glanced over. Oh yeah. Husk. He cleared his throat and smiled sweetly. 

"Whaddaya talkin' about? You're still here."

And… 

Angel's eyes flicked to Alastor and back. Husk groaned, throwing his hands up. 

"Don't do that."

Angel raised his brows. 

"Do what?"

"Try and make secret goo goo eyes at Deer boy over there like I don't know what's up!" 

The glee on Alastor’s face was the only answer he provided Angel’s inquisitive look with— well, that and a slight wave of two of his fingers that weren’t busy holding his suit jacket. The smile was warm and wide, hardly indicative of all the mischief and bloodshed he had been up to earlier. It was colored by warmth and admiration, but the tiny splatter on his cheek marred the sheer charm he radiated.  _ Cute _ .

He nodded to Husk, wordless thanks for the drink he’d already poured him while Charlie and Angel continued to catch up. Alastor drifted away from the bar and deposited his jacket on the lobby couch. In a mirror, he busied himself by rubbing away the stubborn mark on his face. Demon blood  _ stained _ . Alternatively, it was a perfect opportunity to ogle Angel without the scrutiny of curious eyes. Captivating as always. He didn’t expect anything else out of his elegantly poised Spider.

Still.

The blemish on his face wasn’t moving.

Charlie brushed by him and Husk took her spot in a conversation he wasn’t particularly paying close attention to. He shuffled past the Cat and grabbed a bar napkin. The cold that radiated off of him remained in the wake of his presence after he moistened the edge of the tiny square. He returned to the row of stools to sit next to Angel and expectantly put it in one of his hands. Alastor leaned his face in assuming Angel’s help and remained ignorant to the content of their discussion.

He looked to Husk and then to Angel from the corner of his eyes, eyebrows raised and oblivious.

When Alastor made his way over and took a seat at the bar amidst the ongoing conversation, Angel didn't look at him right away. He couldn't. He was still in shock at being so openly called out. He opened his mouth and then closed it again. Well.  _ Shit.  _

"Fine. Have it your way, fluffy," Angel waved his hand dismissively, much to Husk's irritation. That same hand was suddenly occupied with a napkin. He turned toward Alastor, looked at the napkin, back to Alastor, to Husk, and then Alastor once more. He shrugged and carefully cleaned the smudge. It was stubborn but Angel was attentive and gentle. Husk made a disgusted grunting noise and poured more booze. 

Angel took his time and when he was satisfied with the cleanliness of Alastor's face he stroked his fingers over his cheek and leaned in, giving it a quick peck. 

"Ya no usually I prefer to be the one with a mess on his face gettin' cleaned up by a good lookin' fella," Angel purred. Husk gagged and stormed off, muttering something about telling Charlie but that was a tomorrow problem. Right now, Angel was happy to focus on Alastor. 

"Christ. I thought he'd neva leave. Now I got ya all to myself," Angel shivered at the cold radiating off Alastor but he had a few ideas in mind of how to warm up again. He dropped the napkin on the bar and returned to sipping his drink.

The line of Alastor’s mouth and spine pulled tight as Angel kissed him— in  _ front _ of Husk. The dwindling chill that hung on him evaporated, specifically on his cheeks. Maybe he should have had a stronger reaction— even a  _ negative _ one, but for once, the Radio Demon had been taken off guard by the Spider’s cleverness.

“I believe that was more information than anyone needed!” he replied with feigned nervous laughter, trying to play off disgust within earshot of Husk. He squinted and leaned over on his stool to watch him retreat down the hallway. Once he was certain he was gone, Alastor’s vigilant poise deflated. No more acting.

“You really ought to watch that, you know,” he playfully chided. Alastor’s voice naturally dropped into the low end of his register, more familiar and relaxed. The distortion that muddied his voice was still present, but it wasn’t as sensational as it usual was around the others. Almost human.

Alastor slid off of his stool, half perched and half standing as he leaned in and pressed his nose just behind Angel’s ear. Dark and clever hands began skating across soft warm skin, one sliding up his side and around to Angel’s back. The other along the top of Angel’s thigh. Alastor gave it a chilly squeeze and ran his fingernails down the small of Angel’s back. He was  _ starved _ for this.

“You’re going to slip up one day and do something in front of someone whom we can’t so easily blame on poor judgement and flagrant alcoholism,” Alastor’s lips warned against Angel’s skin. He pressed a kiss against his neck softly before retreating. Far enough for eye contact, but not an inch more. The chill on him filled whatever space remained between them. Alastor was selfishly drinking in the view of Angel, admiring him in long careful rakes of his eyes. His chest ached. He didn’t know why.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this,” he said, carefully shoving Angel’s hair out of his eyes. “I believe you look like you belong in your own skin.” Alastor kept touching, grabbing one of Angel’s hands to rub his thumb over his knuckles.

“It looks ravishing on you,” Alastor complimented, kissing the top of his previously plucked hand. The closer they got the more Alastor’s hands seemed to frantically dance about— touching this, kissing there, caressing that.

“My only regret was that I wasn’t around to see more of it tonight,” he explained, leaning up against the bar now instead of the stool. He could be closer to Angel like this. “I was just out reminding a few of my wayward beneficiaries the intricacies of keeping up their end of our bargain. I would advise you  _ not _ to listen to the news come tomorrow morning!” Alastor laughed, radio static turning it into a dark wheeze instead of a real laugh.

Alastor was all over him and despite the chill touch, Angel ate it up. Each brush of lips and fingers had him melting closer and closer to Alastor. He wanted to be enveloped in Alastor's kisses. His affection was the perfect way to end a pretty damn good day. He walked two fingers up Alastor's chest, stopping at his collar. He hooked them into the fabric and drew Alastor in for a proper kiss. Full, plush, the softest hint of tongue against lips. When he pulled back, he tucked his chin toward his chest, his eyes downcast and the corners of his mouth upturned. 

"Careful with all that sweet talk. Keep it up and I just might follow ya home, and then you'll never be rid of me," his words were followed by a quiet, airy chuckle. Alastor seemed to keep finding new ways to make Angel feel special. His words were sweet like honey and Angel ate them up. He nudged his nose against Alastor's, slowly taking stock of just how hands he was, the pleasant mood between them, the lovely words…

"You're right though… I feel… Like myself. Like I wanna," he leaned in and kissed Alastor's jaw, "dance… or," another against his neck, "sing, even."

He grinned against the little bit of skin he had access to and carefully scraped his teeth across it, ever so light and brief. 

"Maybe more than that. Bet we could make up for some of that lost time."

Angel hummed a few bars to a familiar tune ( _ I don't want to set the world on fire)  _ as he drew back far enough to take a drink and look at Alastor. He couldn't get enough of moments like this. 

With Angel’s yank, Alastor’s tail was feeling particularly  _ alert _ . The quick tug had set him on a playful edge but he quickly melted into Angel, against lips, tongue, and a little bit of teeth. Alastor was ruffled properly by Angel’s flirtations, hair slightly askew and his tie loose— lips tingling with insatiable interest. He laughed lightly, putting his hair back together as Angel flitted around him with all of the affection he had been craving.

“Follow me home, you say?” he asked, fixing his tie carefully as Angel’s attention shifted to his drink. “So if I were to tell you that I want to hear that beautiful voice of yours _ really  _ sing for me, you’d come upstairs with me— to  _ my _ room?” If that tenor could get any more smoother or seductive, it might have actually been capable of starting a fire.

“The acoustics are quite remarkable,” Alastor reasoned, cocking his head off to the side.

Angel's eyes lit up at the invitation. A little time for themselves away from possible prying eyes had his full endorsement. He polished off the last of his drink and stood, placing his hands on Alastor's chest as he looked down at him with eagerness and curiosity. Whatever Alastor had in mind, Angel was more than ready for. Up to, and including, actual singing. It was lovely to have come back to this suggestive wordplay, as if the interruption of days never happened. 

"That's right,  _ presentatore,  _ I'd come," Angel bit his lip to stifle a snicker and snaked his arms around Alastor's neck, letting his forearms rest across his shoulders. 

"And give you a private concert you'd neva forget."

He leaned close, kissing the corner of Alastor's mouth on the way to whispering in his ear. His tone was suggestive and sweet as could be. 

"So… Take me."

Alastor’s grin couldn’t twist around anymore pleasure as Angel continued down the path of clever wordplay and suggestion. He leaned in and hovered inches away from Angel’s mouth, letting the breath they shared linger between them before he closed the rest of the distance with his mouth with another gentle kiss. He’d let Angel drape as many arms he liked over him if he got to indulge like this.

“Alright, but I’m going to have to ask you to keep your eyes shut,” he instructed softly. If Angel wanted Alastor to take him to his room, they’d do it the way he wanted to— which was with his usual flair for the dramatic.

The floor swayed and shifted, like a boat on rough waters. The air turned sulfurous and humid and then  _ nothing _ . Absolute silence. Alastor stepped into Angel’s space, crowding him enough where he’d fall off balance and backwards— no choice but to sit. When he did, it was on the edge of a chaise inside Alastor’s room. It had been so eerily quiet because they had already arrived inside the expansive darkness of his room.

Alastor’s magic had blanketed the hotel and moving through it came as easily as breathing. It was the lubricant for most of his travels and eavesdropping.

“Do you know how many times I’ve dreamt of you draped across my furniture,  _ cher _ ?” he asked, stepping out of Angel’s reach to awaken the warm light in his room.

“Far more times than I’d care to admit.” He poured two glasses. They were both a syrupy gold and incredibly bitter, almost medicinal. Alastor passed a glass to Angel and sat down across from him on top of the coffee table that sat nearby. They were eye to eye, close but separated. It was a casual break in their pawing, but the pause needed to happen.

Alastor needed to breathe. He scarcely thought he’d be coming back up for air once the end of their night began.

“This private concert you were telling me about,” he began, a clever smirk pulling the corner of his mouth to one side. Careful hands got to work on his cuffs, unbuttoning them to roll them up his forearms. Next would be his tie.

“Audience participation isn’t frowned upon, is it?”

Angel's legs were shaking. The sudden change of scenery had him dizzy and off kilter, and the seat Alastor urged him into was a welcome one. He'd been swept, quite literally, off his feet. Reality had shifted and warped around him and he breathlessly let himself get swept up in it. It was a reminder of how powerful Alastor was. He took the offered drink and sipped it as he watched Alastor carefully. The taste was familiar and it, coupled with the building tension and desire in the room after weeks of dancing around one another, made Angel feel something unexpectedly welcome. He felt a little more human. 

His eyes raked over Alastor, greedily devouring every inch of him over the rim of his glass as he drank. If Alastor had been thinking of this moment, fantasizing about it, Angel would do his best not to disappoint. He relaxed onto the chaise and ran his fingers along the furry trim of his robe, letting it fall open further, and then hiked up the hem of his negligee just enough to be lewd, but not quite explicit. 

"Frowned upon? No. It's heartily encouraged. It'd be a real shame if you didn't sing along," Angel putted. This was Alastor's domain, and his boundaries were more defined than Angel's on most days. He didn't want to push, but rather, took on a passive role for the moment as he watched Alastor roll his sleeves and loosen his tie. All the waiting, anticipation, flirtation, and stolen intimacy was going to be worth it. Angel just wanted to feel something. Anything Alastor was willing to give. He'd take it. 

"Al…" 

Angel crooked a finger at Alastor, beckoning him closer, aching to taste his lips again.

The picture Angel had painted by owning that space was terribly pretty _ —  _ as pretty as Alastor had imagined. He drank with his eyes, watching spindle thin fingers tease, tug and reveal everything he had ached to see. Alastor’s breath came out hot and metered as his teeth raked over his bottom lip, hungrily taking in the view. It would be a battle with self-control tonight,  _ if _ he decided to employ any.

It wasn’t likely, not with how easy he caved to the crook of Angel’s finger.

Alastor eased his way forward with a smooth grin, slinking his way over and on top of Angel. Minding his knees and hands, he positioned himself delicately within his space. Fingers roamed and raked. On one hand he was steadily balancing himself above but the other smoothed over the sensitive skin of Angel’s upper thigh and hip _ — _ thumb dipping up into the hem of dainty and soft underwear.

“ _ Mwen pral gen nou tout aswè a _ ,  _ Anj _ ,” he murmured with a smooth devilish lilt, pressing his lips and teeth against Angel’s neck. They had shared enough kisses that Angel could wait and drink in the whims of an overly eager Deer. Either way, whatever Alastor had said sounded like a promise, and any previous ideas of discretion seemed to be far removed from the task at hand. 

He’d continue to sink into his meal, touching and tugging until he had Angel wrapped around him. Alastor wouldn’t stop until he had Angel’s thighs bracketing his waist and a faint red welt on his neck from all of that delicious attention. His own hips were snug up against Angel, insinuating just what Alastor had in mind _ — _ what he had said.

_ I’m going to have all of you tonight. _

Alastor's weight on top of him and the way he wedged so perfectly between Angel's legs was fraying his delicate nerves. He was splayed and open for every bit of physical attention Alastor wanted to bestow upon him. Clever fingers skirting under the hem of satin panties that barely contained Angel was a promise for more. And Angel wanted more. So much more. Their careful dance around one another had lead to this moment and it felt so wonderfully cathartic. Finally, after all the teasing of what might be, Angel would give himself over to Alastor completely. 

One set of hands tangled in Alastor's hair, nails scraping his scalp as he bruised the length of his throat and the other smoothed down the length of Alastor's back. Devilish fingers raked through the tuft of fur at the base of Alastor's spine as he pressed his hips up into that already flush point of contact. His lips parted to pant and whimper, weak and wanton. Whatever Alastor wanted was his. Angel was ripe and ready to be devoured. 

"Al… Sweetheart…  _ please." _

He was begging for more. He used his grip in Alastor's hair to draw him in and locked his way into Alastor's mouth. He was ravenously tasting and trying to get closer, more, whatever he could get. He rocked his hips against Alastor's own, friction making him swell against the other demon, revealing just how ready and willing he was. He throbbed against Alastor and moaned openly into their kiss. 

_ I'm all yours.  _

Angel’s pleas were setting Alastor alight, pushing his mind beyond reason and into unhindered action. He drank in the sensations against his scalp, against his lips and tongue— the pressure of Angel’s hips slotted against his own.

What had been forbidden territory before was no longer barred from being traversed.

Alastor greedily bruised Angel’s mouth, rocking his hips roughly against the Spider’s with the encouragement of dexterous fingers playing in the fur of his tail. The sounds of Angel coming apart was fuel to Alastor’s smoldering fire, encouraging a rough and heated grunt out of him that mixed in with the Spider’s wanton song.

The sound was foreign to his own ears but it didn’t cause any hesitation to arise inside of him— in fact, quite the exact opposite happened. His own fingers got to work, frantic and busy at the buttons on his own shirt. Frustration was quick to set in with his fingers barely fast enough to get through each button.

_ Help _ .

Alastor gingerly plucked one of Angel’s hands from him and set it at his chest, encouraging him to finish the work for him as he continued to lavishly lick into his mouth. He slid his hand up the delicate curve of Angel’s stomach, the other joining when his palms came to rest on the curve of his hips. Dark hands gripped roughly as he pulled Angel more solidly against him.

“You can touch me however you like tonight,” he huffed roughly, working quickly on the hinge of his belt. There’d be no slowing down, no stopping and Angel had explicit permission to explore however he liked.

Angel made quick work of Alastor's buttons, arching into the touch of Alastor's hands on him. He had to focus in order to keep himself from fumbling but in the end it was all worth it to be able to slide his fingers over previously unexplored skin. He couldn't contain his excitement, his hammering heart betrayed it all. Permission granted was the only inch Angel needed to take an incredibly desired mile. 

Six hands busied themselves all over Alastor. The sudden appearance of two more appendages didn't go without immediate use. He pushed Alastor's hands away from his belt to take care of it himself. He made quick work of the strip of leather and tossed it aside, but not too far. One never knew where the night might go. Button and fly were next and Angel snaked one hand down the front of Alastors trousers, the other finding its way in the back. He pushed Alastor by his backside, greedily into the palm of his other hand. He reveled in the heat and weight against his palm as he groped and stroked Alastor, eager for more. 

Angel's mouth sought out collar and chest, peppering it with nips and kisses as he came apart at the seams with desire. He whispered against the curve of Alastor's throat something filthy and low in Italian. He pulled back just enough to find deep red eyes, his tongue dragging over his teeth. 

"Al… I wanna…" 

Angel wasn't one for shyness, but coy certainly played a part in his over all demeanor. 

"If I offered ya the same thing I did the day we met, would ya turn me down?" 

Two hands were easy to keep track of, four required a clear head and anticipation,  _ six _ …

Six was overwhelming, and it put control solidly into each and every one of them.

Alastor’s skin sung; Angel’s fingers striking chords with each greedy touch. Seldom touched skin tingled with every brush of a fingertip, and Alastor let himself fall victim to it. He buckled under the feeling— giving up and giving in to whatever plan Angel’s clever hands had for him. He shuddered, radiating deep from hips that refused to stay still. Alastor huffed heavily, and an enthralled wince drew his eyebrows together.

He’d forgotten how quickly he could lose himself in this.

A solid hand on Angel’s hip grounded what little left he had of himself. Teeth and tongue, filthy words and suggestions, dextrous fingers wrapped around and fondling the incredibly rigid testament to the Deer’s desire for the Spider— it ripped the rest of the reigns Alastor struggled to keep on himself right from his own hands.

“No—  _ no _ , Angel,” he replied, barely hanging on to his own voice. “I’m not concerned about limitations, not now— not tonight.”

No limitations was a scintillating thing to consider. Angel's hands worked in tandem to push Alastor's shirt off and pull his trousers down. He needed more access to everything. Their current position was hindering his ability to get Alastor completely undressed, so long limbs stabilized them both as Angel sat up and tossed Alastor onto his back. He maneuvered with preciseness and flexibility shifting to rid himself of anymore fabric obstructions. He enjoyed the sight of Alastor beneath him and naked for a few indulgent moments. He committed every lithe, beautiful inch to memory. 

However, this was not the position he wanted to see Alastor in at the moment. No. Maybe sometime, tonight, or in the future, he'd ride those hips, which was a thought enticing enough to make his hardness twitch between his legs. Tonight, however, the first thing he really wanted, and the one goal occupying his mind, was getting his mouth around Alastor. He took Alastor by the hips and with all six hands, pulled him into the position he wanted. 

Angel was stronger than his lanky form would lead one to believe. He moved Alastor around as if it was effortless. Angel stretched out on the chaise and hooked his lowest set of arms under Alastor's thighs, braced the next two along his lower back, and used the top most pair to run his fingers attentively through Alastor's hair, making sure it wasn't in his eyes. He'd lifted Alastor to straddle his chest, giving him a perfect position to lavish him with skillful and playful swipes of his tongue and presses of his lips. 

The length of Alastor's arousal rested nicely against his lips, or so Angel thought as he looked up at Alastor with half shut eyes. He parted his lips and tasted experimentally with a swipe of his tongue. 

"Lemme know if it gets ta be too much for ya," he purred, and then slowly, he enveloped Alastor. Kiss swollen lips closed around him, and an eager tongue rubbed and swirled against him as Angel rocked Alastor by the hips toward his face while bobbing his head. He started slow and steady, keeping his jaw lax as they both adjusted to the feel of it all. 

It took him by surprise, being manhandled by Angel the way he was. Alastor would have easily done the same in his position and given the same kind of instructions— but it didn’t make enduring it any easier. Angel stripped away his carefully laid veneer. Clothes hid sensitive flesh marred by wide jaws, a revelation that would come easy to Angel in the way he watched him drink him in from the flat of his back.

He laid there naked, breathing unevenly with fingers tucked into his hair, palm partially obscuring the self conscious concern riding on his brow. This was a lot— nearly too much. He was at the mercy of six deft hands and ravenous intentions. 

_ “Angel! _ ” which wasn’t protest when they shifted again, but instead an exclamation of surprise. Alastor had only just adjusted and Angel was already moving him around again. What he had planned and intended to do was a bit of mystery until Alastor found himself settled and steadied.  _ Oh. _

The view was so much more than he had anticipated.

Alastor gripped Angel by the shoulder, staring down with bloated pupils and a healthy gape. Instincts took over instead of control and he licked his lips, watching the head of his cock skate experimentally across an eager tongue. Alastor’s hand tightened on Angel as his head threatened to tip back. He stared at him down the length of his nose, neck tight and flexing as he metered his response to all of Angel’s eager exploration.  _ Careful _ .

He nodded, tight lipped and certain. Alastor trusted Angel and his clever mouth, and if he ever danced on the edge of any of this becoming too much— he knew there would be no hesitation. It made letting go all that much easier.

Alastor’s breath hitched as Angel set to work, and his exhales were brief and shallow. All that skill wrapped around him tightened the knot of arousal that sat deep inside Alastor’s groin. It was wanton fire and need, slowly building with each lascivious pass of lips and tongue. Alastor gripped the chaise, white knuckled and wanting until all of that stifled need erupted into the silent space of Alastor’s room.

“ _ Mmnohh _ — _ ”  _ he  _ whined _ , greedily too. A delectable and rare sound, primall. “ _ A-anj _ , bon—  _ telmon  _ bon,” a stutter wrapped around the hint of an exquisitely salacious smile. He was locked on, usually red eyes were blown and greedily drinking in the sight of him repeatedly disappearing inside of Angel’s beautifully stretched mouth. He carded his fingers through soft strands of white and let his claws rest at the back of his head. He tugged—  _ rough _ . Alastor’s hips trailed behind, pressing a little bit more forcefully into Angel’s mouth.  _ More. _

All of Alastor’s discipline abandoned him by now, as made obvious by his willful participation and hints at escalation, and something darker began to appear and take its place.

The pull of fingers against his scalp drew a startled moan from Angel's throat. He let his eyes flutter shut as he sank into the bliss of feeling the length of Alastor's arousal sliding over his tongue. He relaxed his throat, swallowing around Alastor has he thrust more and more insistently. He no longer needed the press of Angel's hands to guide him, the ones not keeping Alastor steady began to wander. 

One set of hands couldn't stop themselves from exploring the expanse of Alastor's chest, nails raking lightly downward, careful not to scrape to hard when they passed over his nipples. Those same hands wrapped around and scratched up the length of Alastor's back, just hard enough to leave the skin a little warm but not enough to hurt. 

It took a great deal of self control not to dig harder. His other set of free hands kneaded into the supple flesh of his backside and stroked that sensitive tuft at the base of his spine. Yes, he'd taken note of Alastor's tail and the sensitivity it possessed. He wouldn't leave it without proper attention. Despite all the wandering, even though Angel's focus was split,  _ this  _ was his wheelhouse. He excelled here. Sex. Giving pleasure. Receiving. All of it. He moaned, long and indecent, shameless in his own arousal. Angel didn't need things to be tender and magical. He needed them to be  _ real.  _

Spit slid down his chin as he sucked Alastor. Discipline be damned. This moment was for both of them and holding back felt like a disservice to all their anticipation and waiting. Even as his jaw grew sore and his neck felt hot and tight, he didn't feel even remotely like stopping or slowing down until Alastor did. Between his legs, Angel's own need was heavy, dripping, and throbbing. Usually it took more to get him so riled up, but as with most things, Alastor was an exception. His hips bucked a little of their own accord toward friction he wouldn't find. The satin of his panties was suffocatingly tight. 

He whimpered, nails digging into Alastor, desperately. He opened his eyes again to locked eyes with the demon making a mess of his mouth. He was ravenous, begging without words for more. 

_ More.  _ Angel wanted that too. 

The rough rhythm they had established was interrupted by the presence of another shudder. Angel’s fingers made quick work of him, ripping a ragged groan out of Alastor with the deliberate attention supplied to his tail. The shiver of ruffled fur washed over him, mixing deliciously with all of Angel’s effort wrapped around the length of him.

His Spider was clever, pulling him apart like this.

Alastor’s crown of red tipped back as he let out another gratified moan. He shoved himself more insistently into Angel’s mouth, greedily abusing the back of his throat over and over again with each long roll of his hips.

He felt like fire and smoke, dancing and billowing wildly out of control. The sound of Angel’s voice breaking around him only served to further spurn him on. The look on Angel’s face when he looked down at him from the length of his nose reminded him that there was more to the night than his own creeping fruition. Bruised lips, damp eyes— hungry, even with a full mouth. Alastor’s face was twisted with pleasure and twisted gratification; all teeth and hunger.

Carbon black hands snatched Angel’s jaw and himself, putting some distance between spit slick lips and his own arousal. He’d let his broad head stay within the distance of temptation, tracing it filthily along the edge of Angel’s mouth.

“You have a choice to make, cher,” he warned. The dangerous glint in Alastor’s eyes hinted at the obvious overlap of predation and sex as he passed his fist over his length. Alastor caught his lower lip in his teeth briefly as he made sure he had Angel’s full attention.

“In you, on you, or down your throat.”

Angel grinned in Alastor's grip, groaning lowly at the loss of Alastor in his mouth, but the lewd drag of damp arousal across his lips left him temporarily speechless. A dozen quips sprang to mind, all aiming to taunt Alastor into deciding for himself just what he wanted to do with Angel. He wanted Alastor to work for it, despite being desperate to simply give himself over. He struggled a bit against Alastor's grasp on his jaw, bucking his body in a half-hearted attempt to wrap his mouth around Alastor again, and then went lax against the chaise. 

He returned Alastor's hungry expression with one of his own, all teeth and flushed cheeks. The front of his panties was already damp with want, it had been far too long since he'd been with anyone he truly wanted to be with. It was better than any high. He groaned and squirmed under Alastor and bit his lower lip, stalling on the answer, intentionally keeping him waiting. 

He could only resist for so long; his own throbbing need felt far too overwhelming to ignore. 

"What if I want it all?" Angel mewled, leaning hard into how needy he felt. "I can't choose… you promised to make me sing, but you never said I'd have to pick the song."

It was a playfully laid challenge. Angel had faith that Alastor would rise to the occasion. 

The response was perfectly befitting for Angel’s smart mouth. Alastor’s grin widened, clearly amused and willfully ready to take the bait he laid out for him.

“ _ Mmn _ , perhaps a solo performance then— since you’re having such a difficult time making up your mind,  _ cher _ ,” he murmured playfully, drawing a line along the curve of Angel’s jaw with a sharp red nail. Alastor was going to eat up that challenge and Angel up along with it. He’d have to employ other tactics without the benefit of having as many hands as Angel, but the Spider already knew that the Deer had other ways of getting him to bend and fold…

He pulled himself out of Angel’s proximity, crawling back to yank on a beautifully sculpted thigh to flatten him out on his back. Alastor drank him in, raking his eyes over him to memorize every wrinkle in the silky fabric that enrobed his beloved little arachnid— the one he was going to take apart as promised. Getting him on his back was only the beginning of the plan he had for him. In order to change his orientation and keep Angel behaved was to employ something he’d only teased at when they had visited the diner together.

It was an unfortunate sight to lose as Alastor twisted Angel’s legs from around his waist and eased him onto his front. In their shift, something cool, gentle, and strong wrapped around six thin wrists, pulling them down snug against the warm velvet beneath them. Alastor’s hand skated up the curve of Angel’s spine and stopped at the base of his skull to knit into his hair. He tugged, causing the line of Angel’s neck to curve back.

“You’ll tell me when you’ve had enough, won’t you?” he asked against the shell of Angel’s ear. His chest bore down against Angel’s back and black limbs tugged and pulled the Spider forward while keeping him on his knees. He released Angel’s hair and kissed the soft curve of his shoulder blade as his fingers hooked into the hem of his lust stained panties and tugged down. Alastor purred against Angel’s skin, drinking in the delight of securing him and divesting him of that single piece of strained cloth. He smoothed his palms over Angel’s thighs and pulled him back into his hips— laying seeds of temptation and promise.

Not yet.

“I would hate for you to miss the encore,” Alastor huffed, letting his fingertips creep toward the inside of Angel’s thighs. That was enough anticipation for both himself and Angel he decided. Alastor’s thumb and index hooked around the root of Angel with his other fingers wrapping around the rest of him that felt full and swollen with desire. He squeezed him, biting into the space between Angel’s neck and shoulder at the same time. 

That suggestive tone, and curl of Alastor's finger against his jaw served to further whet Angel's appetite. He was loathe to lose their closeness, but just as eager to see what this so called 'solo performance' might entail. Alastor had a clever mind and equally clever hands, meaning Angel doubted that he'd be disappointed. 

Angel let out an undignified whine as Alastor dragged him by the thigh to lay flat. He reached, tried to get more contact, but it was playful and he gave in easily. There was a fine line to walk between impatient enticement and hungry compliance. He arched into Alastor's touch, his skin growing warmer beneath cool fingertips. The waiting and the teasing was maddening and the flip to his stomach made Angel dizzy. What came after as his head cleared from the sudden shift in position, however, was just plain exciting. 

Inky black coiled around his wrists. He was restrained just tight enough that he couldn't get away, but the little bit of wiggle room he did have he made good use of, grinding his hips against the soft velvet of the chaise. He wiggled toward Alastor, begging with his body to be touched, and got precisely what he wanted. The moment he was freed from the confines of his satin prison, Angel groaned in relief. His flushed, leaking tip smeared against the velvet, leaving a damp stain behind. Though he couldn't see it, he felt the heat of Alastor's flowing stare on him. 

He bit his lower lip hard as he held in the teasing jab that his safeword was  _ rehab.  _ Instead he nodded, staying silent. If Alastor wanted more, he'd have to work for it. Angel wasn't sure that he  _ could _ have enough of Alastor tonight. His pent up desire spilled out of him in a breathy sigh as Alastor took hold of him, pressed against him, gave him the faintest taste of what he had in store. He tried to thrust back for more but was well constrained by Alastor's otherworldly bindings. 

He glanced over his shoulder at Alastor, meeting his eyes with a mischievously defiant grin, his gold tooth catching the low light. 

_ Bring it on.  _

Angel behaved every bit like a spoiled child—  _ enfant terrible _ . In dealing with the challenge the ensnared Spider’s expression proposed, Alastor wouldn’t employ any expected tactics. Denial seemed like the obvious course of action, but he had other plans.

Indulge— indulge so much that it’d be too much.

Alastor wanted begging,  _ singing _ .

If Angel couldn’t take anymore by the end of the night, the stall in their careful dance would have been worth it. Break him down, make him completely and fully his— want nothing else, desire no one else.

Alastor’s modus operandi was possession, and he’d stop at nothing in order to selfishly claim Angel’s desire for himself.

The flesh he’d worried between his teeth was already beginning to redden. It wouldn’t be the only reminder Angel would have from their night together. Alastor applied teeth and tongue to the delicate curve of the back beneath him, pausing to grip skin between canines after laving kisses onto sweet warm skin. He trailed, ruminating in the soft sighs and purrs it pulled out of his prey. An intro before the verse— _ good. _

He didn’t leave Angel wanting as he traveled down his back. Alastor gave him several deliberate tugs before his fingers became greedy, swiping calloused fingers over his slick head, gently wringing out more of the sapid desire that leaked out of him. There wasn’t anything more in that moment than Alastor wanting to taste him. The temptation to lick a long stripe from the root of his finger to fingertip became reality and he caved, delighting in the ability to savor Angel on his tongue like this.

It wasn’t the only thing he’d planned on tasting.

Damp fingers gripped the swell of Angel’s backside as he crept down closer from behind. Hunger rumbled out of Alastor in a bass riddled chuckle as his tongue teased the dip at the start of where Angel was split. Dextrous fingers paved the way, pushing and teasing before moist muscle pushed passed their reach to claim more skin. It felt unfortunate for Angel that Alastor wasn’t gifted with the same amount of clever hands as he had, but he was more than capable of making up for it. He grinned to himself, manifesting another limb beneath Angel to take him and apply the absent pressure his hand had previously provided there before. His own hands were still busy, prying Angel apart to swipe a warm and deliberate stripe over his hole with his tongue.

Every touch, every press of teeth, every new mark left behind had Angel keening his pleasure, openly, without hesitation. He wasn’t shy about letting himself make a little noise to encourage Alastor to continue. His skin hummed from the attention, warm and red, begging for more as he was spread open by Alastor’s deft hands. The loss of attention to his aching length was well worth it to have Alastor’s face buried against him. The warm, wet slide of tongue sent a shiver down his spine. It was one of the last things he’d expected from Alastor, and he was pleasantly surprised by it. His fingers flexed, desperate to grab onto something, but he was held in place, unable to tether himself, totally vulnerable to Alastor’s mouth. 

And then there was more. More stimulation. A smooth appendage wrapped around him and picked up precisely where Alastor left off, leaving no inch of Angel untouched or unattended to. He buried his face against the chaise to stifle the startled shout of pleasure that tore from his throat, and then turned his head to the side. He was panting and shaking, squirming with delight beneath Alastor as he tried to quell the need to thrust his hips back and forth to get more. His abdomen felt tight as he soaked it all in, greedy and whimpering. 

He was entirely at Alastor’s mercy, and was not at all bothered by that fact. He let himself revel and get lost in it all. The smell of sex, the bitter cold of eldtritch tentacles around him, the slide of tongue against him, the sound of his own moans and heavy breath, all made up a moment so damn perfect, he wouldn’t be able to forget it for the rest of his life. He whined through his teeth which sank into his lower lip hard enough to nearly draw blood. He felt the pinprick of almost punctures and tried to relax a bit, but he was far too pent up to do so effectively. He was wound tight around Alastor’s clever finger. Everything he felt read plainly on his face. Pleasure, frustration, indignation. He wouldn’t break and beg so easily, though he wasn’t far from it now. 

He gave Alastor a look of defiant ecstasy and moaned long and low. 

“ _ Alastor. _ ”

Whimpers and moans— the sound of his name curled around Angel’s tongue; it all culminated into a beautiful melody that made Alastor positively ache. As much as the weight between Alastor’s thighs hung heavily between them there’d be no caving. Not yet. There were still so many things to explore on Angel’s pliant body— so many different kinds of mewls and whines to hear.

Alastor couldn’t mind the slick mess that he made, not when it aided in crafting Angel’s undoing like it did. Slithering muscle stroked and intruded, insistent in claiming more flesh to taste and work. Lips and teeth worked in tandem to suck and rake across delicately drawn skin. Alastor delighted in his squirming and all of his responsiveness would buy Angel more and more attention— even if it wouldn’t seem like it at first.

The tendril around him stilled, clinging to Angel and squeezing firmly around the base of his arousal. Gratification oozed out of Alastor as he retreated from working Angel into a malleable state of arousal. It rolled around his chest, reverberating smoothly out of his cleverly capable mouth. Despite making the Spider into a meal, Alastor was hardly sated. It read clearly as he caught mismatched eyes peeking over a creamy and delicate shoulder. The proof was in his grin, pulled tight in one corner and skewed by devilish intentions.

“ _ Angel _ ,” said in much the same way as he had said it previously, a playful taunt as he leaned over his back. “You’re doing alright now, aren’t you?” he asked, his fingers skating down the small of his back to finally rest where his tongue once was. Slick fingertips traced gently around the ring he had sufficiently teased earlier, albeit more insistently.

“...  _ darling? _ ” Alastor added, breaking it off smoothly against Angel’s ear. He lingered there, wanting to hear every little nuance in Angel’s response when he finally breached him with one very insistent and curious digit.

Angel whined in protest at Alastor’s withdrawal. The start stop pace that was being set had Angel’s head spinning. His name sounded more wonderful and sinful than any sound he’d ever heard before. If no one else ever said his name again, he’d be perfectly content. Alastor had set the bar far too high for everyone else with the way it slid from his lips like a promise. That brief eye contact was enough to show Angel just how much Alastor was also enjoying this intimacy. For all the dancing around it they’d done, now that it was finally here, Angel struggled to believe it was real. 

The tight squeeze around his arousal kept him from drifting too far from reality. The question he’d been asked rolled around in his head, and an answer sprang to his tongue before Angel could really give it a second thought. 

“I dunno,  _ sweetheart…  _ Am I?” 

He inhaled sharply, immediately pushing his hips toward that first press of Alastor’s finger inside him. It wasn’t nearly enough and Angel’s wiggling showed it. He needed more. If Angel had his way, he’d already have Alastor buried to the hilt inside him. Better that Alastor was in control, then they could both better savor the moment. He whimpered, pressing his cheek hard against the velvet as he tried desperately to urge Alastor into further action with rocking hips and his unrestrained mewling. There was a frustrated lilt to every sound he made. He was a panting mess. He was exactly where he most wanted to be.

There was no doubt in Alastor’s mind that his spindly songbird could handle more. Toying with him, however, drew out sounds that hinted at otherwise— frustration and eagerness wrapped around one another. Handle more attention, of course, handle more teasing, Alastor would have to explore. He could feel it radiate off of him, in the wiggle of his hips and the heave of his fluffy chest against the furniture. The way his body inhaled the intrusion repeatedly, no matter how limited his range of motion, was a wonderfully filthy sight to see.

“I suppose you are,  _ for now, _ ” he replied, letting him tease himself against his hand. Alastor draped his forearm across the small of Angel’s back, resting on him casually to further limit his ability to steal the delicious  _ more _ he craved.

“I believe once I figure out what it is exactly that you like,  _ Anthony _ ,” Alastor hummed, wiggling the digit inside Angel that he had done around the same earlier. What he’d do at the mention of his name, Alastor didn’t know, but he’d explore the permission he had to use it. If it helped undo the Spider, he’d burn it into his memory for later. He grinned, leaning on his fist and letting his elbow intrude into the flesh of Angel’s back. Alastor decided that his backside needed to be higher and the front of him needed to be much,  _ much  _ lower _.  _ If Angel’s mouth was going to continue to reply in the smart way that it was, he was going to be put in equally smart positions by Alastor.

“That answer will undoubtedly change,” he continued to explain, beginning to toy with the motion of meeting Angel’s hindered thrusts. 

“And may very well be unable answer at all,” Alastor grinned around it with heated menace. How to best and take a part someone as infamously practiced as Angel would prove to be a challenge, but his focus wasn’t about to sway. He wanted to hear more of those wordless whines, breathless pants and slurred prayers of his name.

_ Another— _ another would be enough to sate his own curiosity. Middle and fore worked together, spit slick and searching with metered thrusts and repeated beckoning gestures from inside Angel. 

Alastor was quickly unraveling Angel, restricting him further, pushing him more firmly into the chaise, making him have to push harder to get what he wanted. It was exactly the kind of struggle he thrived on. The dig of Alastor’s sharp joint into his back made it just a little harder to breathe, and the extreme angle left him feeling even more exposed and vulnerable than before. He was eating every second of it up with grateful moans and bucking hips. He tugged against his restraints, defiantly refusing to tell Alastor one way or another how bad he wanted him with words. His name was startling. 

He went still when he heard it and it set his blood on fire. He hadn’t heard anyone use that in a setting like this since he arrived in hell. It was fresh, new, and yet familiar all at once. It made him more pliant. He relaxed into Alastor’s ministrations and let his eyes slip shut. The feeling of Alastor’s finger inside him, pressing at sensitive nerves, with his name still ringing in his ears made Angel want to weep with pleasure. He whimpered. Breaking Angel was no small feat, but Alastor had done it with one simple word. His name. His hardness throbbed and dripped anew with the fresh wave of unique arousal sweeping through him. 

“Alastor… Alastor, please…”

No sooner had the words left his lips, that he was receiving another finger. It stretched him just a bit farther. It burned in all the right ways, and with ease, Alastor found and hooked his fingers against Angel’s sweet spot, over and over. Distantly, Angel wondered how someone who was so reluctant toward this kind of intimacy could know how to take him apart so damn well. He panted into the velvet, chest heaving to try for a full breath, but struggling to do so. His fingers flexed, opening and closing his fists over and over as fresh beads of desire welled up and spilled from him. Each pass of Alastor’s fingers milked more and more from Angel. His stomach was slick and sticky with it, the chaise would never be quite the same. Better to replace it entirely at this point. 

It wasn’t enough. Angel could do this until he had nothing left to give when he did finally finish, and it would leave him raw and unsatisfied, but he didn’t care. He was enraptured by everything Alastor was giving him. He wanted to be filled and fulfilled. Every thrust of Alastor’s fingers drew a sigh or a moan from Angel’s lips. He was in perfect agony, eyes growing misty and head swimming. Even though he wanted to find the words to taunt Alastor, he couldn’t. The only vocabulary left in his head was  _ Alastor.  _ He began to say it, whimper it, whine it, and moan it over and over, volume increasing and tone becoming more desperate. He was totally wrecked by his own desire.

Despite the thick haze of sex that hung around them, Alastor could still hear the chord resonate perfectly when it was struck. The subtle and desperate shift in Angel. The way his whine wrapped around his name and finally, a  _ request _ . It was clear to Alastor what had done it and he’d keep it tucked away as promised. A filthy, delectable little secret that he’d store with all the other ones he’d come to know throughout his time above and below. If Angel wondered how Alastor had come to know so many, how to pull him apart, how to indulge and entertain these kinds of things— he’d let him. Those would be confessions for later,  _ if _ he dared to ask.

There was still  _ so _ much to do to his little Spider.

Alastor chuckled, smooth and syrupy, like the mess that Angel’s body was quickly making on his furniture. He licked his teeth and cast his gaze down to the back of Angel’s contorted upper body. There was heat in his admiration. What a beautiful mess he’d turned into.

“ _ Please _ ,” Alastor repeated, letting his teeth sink into it. “Why, it’s almost as if it sounds like you need something else,  _ cher _ ,” and he bit back the urge to use his name again. It was dangerous in how sweet it tasted when rolling off of his tongue. Alastor’s fingers still worked in slow thrusts, but the inky black limbs around Angel began to recede back into the void. He pulled himself off of Angel’s back and sat back on his haunches, letting his fingers be the last to leave Angel.

“On your back,” he instructed, running a hand up Angel’s side, encouraging him to do so gently. “I want to see your face when I take you, Anthony.” He couldn’t help himself, and the grin on his face said so entirely.

Angel’s head felt cloudy as the tendrils holding him in place slowly withdrew and he was free to move again. His limbs felt sluggish in his lusty haze. The loss of fingers inside him forced a reedy whine from his throat, but he knew what it meant. He knew what came next. He was slick and aching, moving to his back proved difficult. He was clumsy and drunk with desire. His legs wrapped greedily around Alastor’s waist and drew him in. He couldn’t resist. Hands that had been previously occupied were now all over Alastor once more. He drew him in, tugging insistently until he got what he wanted. 

Angel’s lips devoured Alastor’s own as he rutted his hips for more friction, more touch. He was ready and willing, begging for Alastor to take him with every inch of his being. The thought that he’d be so exposed, so  _ seen,  _ added a thrill to it all. This wasn’t like fucking in front of a camera. This was something else entirely that he didn’t want to put a name to. The thought of how intimate and telling this was served to quicken Angel’s pulse. His heart was in his throat. He whispered against Alastor’s lips. 

“ _ Take me, I’m yours. _ ”

Angel’s swift descent into attachment was a done deal. He sealed his loyalty, his lust, his adoration, with another passionate press of lips. He didn’t close his eyes. He wanted to see too, and commit all of this to memory, as Alastor made an imprint that would last on Angel for several lifetimes.

All of Angel’s unraveling, the exposure he provided by needing Alastor so honestly and hungrily, the very suggestion of taking him and making him his— _ truly _ his, fostered a shift in Alastor. How could he deny him? How could he not drown with him in the intimacy of the moment? Alastor let himself go. There was no more acting and no more playing— just something very real and very dangerous for them both to explore.

Angel kissed those words into Alastor’s lips and it felt raw— so painfully true and honest. It broke down the barrier of performative filth, exposing Alastor; not only to Angel, but to his own realization as well. He couldn’t deny Angel or himself, and it made him deeply vulnerable. They’d already come this far and what another dangerous admission would do to tip the scales against them, Alastor didn’t know. He wanted to confess everything— his longing, his passion, his  _ devotion _ .

He was  _ already _ Angel’s.

Alastor met him with the same intensity, mouth and body desperate for contact. In search of shared wholeness. He searched for the words to match Angel’s admission, but he was overwhelmed; knocked wordless by the sensation of seating himself fully inside of Angel’s body. The sheer physical connection came with sensations that were devastating to Alastor’s composure— physically, mentally, emotionally. His hands were never satisfied, even as they drank in the curves of Angel’s body and around his leaking arousal. His mouth suffered the same fate, kissing bruises into his lips like they were the last he’d ever taste. His mind couldn’t supply him with anything other than the pressing thought that Angel had been the only thing he’d ever needed— ever missed.

“ _ K _ _ è mwen _ ,  _ Anthony, _ ” he shuddered against Angel, driving into him with unparalleled need — need that Alastor had never known . Broken Creole was huffed against his skin, the tone distinctly sweet and full of adoration. “ _ Pa plis jou san li _ ,” Alastor huffed, searching Angel’s eyes before sealing the words against his mouth.

The moment they came together and Angel was filled, everything came to a standstill. His mind was quiet and there was nothing else in all of hell but the two of them. No Valentino, no Lucifer, no Hazbin. All his problems ceased to exist in the face of something so perfect and pleasurable and  _ right.  _ It was made all the sweeter, knowing that for Alastor, this was deeply personal. It gave Angel comfort and security, knowing that this moment was meaningful for both of them. He wasn’t just some fucktoy for another powerful demon. He was Anthony. He was worthy of care. He was worthy of affection. He was worthy of this absolute bliss. He felt full in more ways than physical, and he gasped his elation in half formed words that came out as moans. He was lost in it. 

Lost in Alastor. 

Their lips met in kiss after crushing kiss, words muffled in the growing heat between them as Alastor rocked into Angel, and Angel pushed back. His own body moved toward Alastor, thirsty, needy, longing, and found satisfaction with every thrust. His fingers carded through Alastor’s hair, nails raked down his back, skated through the soft fur of his tail, and touched wherever they could reach. All six limbs moving in tandem to show Alastor that he was present, he was grateful, he was  _ satiated _ . Maybe it said something about him, that he found so much peace in this sinful abandon, but he didn’t care. 

He couldn’t understand Alastor’s words, but they felt like a confession, they carried weight. Angel brushed his lips over Alastor’s jaw, whispering back sweet nothings in his own native tongue. He was confident and his tone betrayed how close he was to his own undoing with how it cracked and pitched upward around familiar Italian syllables. 

“Ti adoro…” _ I adore you.  _ Angel’s legs tightened around Alastor’s waist. He pressed kisses along Alastor’s neck. He whimpered and dragged him harder into every thrust. __

_“_ Tesoro mio… Mi hai cambiato la vita” _My sweetheart, you changed my life_. Angel’s back arched as he felt Alastor’s firm length rubbing up against him, stimulating every sensitive nerve, driving him closer and closer to the brink. He felt like he was alive again. He felt like himself. He felt seen for who he was, and that freeing feeling only added to his ecstasy.

_ “ _ Ho un debole per te _.” I’m weak for you.  _ His words were skirting dangerously close to revealing too much. Angel was slipping. Losing control of himself. He wanted to give Alastor the one thing he’d worked so hard to protect. He wasn’t able to discern whether the pleasure was clouding his judgment, or finally, he could see clearly. 

_ “Sono inna-- A-Alastor. _ ” He gripped Alastor’s shoulders and his eyes rolled back into his head. Angel’s breath was coming harder, more labored, every muscle in his body was drawn tight, clenching around Alastor, as if he never wanted him to leave-- never wanted this to stop. He felt heat building, fast and overwhelming, deep in the pit of his stomach. He knew he wouldn’t last like this. How could he?

“Al-l-astor… I--” Angel nuzzled up against Alastor, teeth dragging over the skin of his collarbone and neck, his nails were surely going to leave marks in Alastor’s back for days to come, “M-Make me… I want you to…”

He couldn’t fully form the words on the tip of his tongue. He only hoped he was understood anyway.

Alastor couldn’t help himself, drenched in sweet nothings and limbs he had come to care for so perfectly and completely. Angel unraveled for him, utterly and beautifully — he could scarcely contain the way it made him feel. He was every missing piece, every word, and every whine and whisper his ears had never known that they were starving to hear. Angel was putting Alastor together with pieces of himself. The ease of their shared passion made him grow dizzy, drunk on the realization that this simple act was going to damn him to a life that would never know contentment without Angel in it.

He held onto him, greedy with the tether that held him to the moment by holding fast to thighs and flesh that had begun to grow slick with sweat. Alastor anchored himself around Angel, using his grip to further roll and drive a perfect rhythm into him. The encouragement— the sheer responsiveness of Angel pulled all of Alastor’s attention to a single point.

Don’t stop.

Don’t  _ ever _ stop.

It lit his skin on fire, and the heat of it settled deep down in his belly, burning hotter and growing desperate. Angel had turned him into a bonfire, ready to rage out of control. The words he spoke Alastor didn’t know, but each of them pushed him closer and closer to being consumed with his own release. His voice was ragged with it, uneven and breathy. The look on his face was of a man destroyed, devoured by the adoration and desire he had for the Spider that he had so easily given himself over to. Alastor was wound tight, fit to burst. Angel’s confession of just how close he was came as a relief to the helplessness he felt in the face of all the exquisite friction that threatened to unravel him.

“ _ Anj _ ,” he whined, the sound of it clipped by a chest rattling moan. “ _ Please, _ I— I can’t,” Alastor confessed, all of the sounds that escaped him signifying that he was coming to his peak. “I want you to— for me,  _ Angel _ ,” he choked on it, hips stuttering as he approached the precipice from where there was no returning. Words failed to express how badly he wanted them to fall together, but all of his actions spoke for him— in the drag of his fist over Angel and the abusive meter of his hips. Alastor would selfishly watch and gorge on the sight of him— to bask and marvel in the tight draw of Angel’s face, to adore him through it and catalogue every reedy sound he’d make when he came to fruition. An end that was Alastor’s, a sublime one that he had given him—  _ only _ him.

Beautiful, wonderful  _ him. _

“ _ Anthony, I _ —,” he gasped, beginning to careen and plummet down into the fire of his release. Everything felt like it stopped and the world ceased to be, halting to give them this one perfect moment drenched in ecstasy. Alastor’s hips dragged deliberately, rutting out his release into Angel in perfectly metered strokes that drew out indecently satiated moans from his arid throat. He clung to Angel, chest heaving and brow damp with sweat. Alastor worked through the last of the efforts that spent him, unsure if he wanted to try and will himself back down to Hell from the place that he felt like he was soaring from.

Alastor was just as wrecked as Angel. His voice carried with it the evidence of the inevitable end to this perfect moment. It was beautiful and terrifying. All it took was the ask, and Angel was spilling between them in hot, thick spurts. His body was alight with the near painful pulse of orgasm coursing through him. His throat ripped itself raw with his cries of unintelligible affirmations. He dragged his nails down Alastor's back, leaving red welts behind as he made a mess of them both. 

His body clenched against Alastor. He couldn't stop himself from tensing from head to toe as he rode out the blissful high that came with finishing. He was a glorious disaster of cursing and praising, overstimulated as they continued through until Alastor had finished. He was full and aching in all the best ways, gasping for air as he slowly relaxed and went boneless against the chaise. His third pair of arms retracted slowly and his hands stroked over every inch of Alastor they could reach. 

He was spent and content and readily pulled Alastor to his chest. Contact. More of it. He needed just a little more and then he could gather his wits. He nestled kisses into Alastor's neck and his eyes slipped shut. 

Every square inch of Alastor’s body was humming, a delicate note that had been struck by the warmth and constriction of Angel’s around his. He was raw from it, quickly overstimulated by the stroke of hands and nails— the pull of flesh from where their connection waned. He removed himself with a wince but remained cemented within Angel’s grasp, bearing exhausted weight onto the pliant body that lay beneath. Exhalations came unevenly as he tried to find his footing and his voice again, wading through the emotions and thoughts that came with the very surreal and unexpected experience of being with Angel.

It was like a dream, a very real and very perfect dream— a dream that was still too much to process in the midst of abundant attention.

Alastor startled against Angel after a brush over angry and raising claw marks, pressing his face into one very full and fluffy chest. Those fingers were beginning to be too much, especially after all of  _ that. _

“Angel, is it possible for you to mind your hands for me?” he asked, muffled and mildly embarrassed— suddenly very thankful for the retreat he could make into Angel’s soft coat. “You don’t have to stop, but—,” Alastor tried to explain, holding onto Angel as he gathered his senses and receded back into himself from sheer overstimulation.

Angel startled slightly as Alastor spoke against him and found himself smiling. Some part of him was lucid enough in this blissful dreamlike haze to comply. He sucked in a breath and two more arms receded back into his frame. Suddenly he was a little shorter, a little less  _ everywhere  _ and a little more human. Tentatively, one hand rested against the back of Alastor's head where it rested against him and the other laid limo against the chaise. 

He hummed his happiness, words still failing him as he basked. It was far too easy to sink into the comfort that their coupling brought. It cemented Angel's loyalty. After a few long minutes of quiet and labored breathing, things started to even out and Angel found his head a bit more level. 

"Hey, Al… Just… so you know. It wasn't just a heat of the moment thing. I meant what I said," not that Alastor understood it. Angel decided to clarify just a bit more. "I'm all yours, y'know."

He smiled, tucking his chin toward his chest to get a better look at Alastor. 

"For as long as you'll have me."

The ability to think clearly was Alastor’s once more when Angel stilled and pulled himself back together. He appreciated it in his own way, the care that those fingers and limbs displayed, but their attention had simply been too much during Alastor’s own attempts at putting himself together. 

“I believe what you meant to say was,” and he pulled himself out of the warm cavern of Angel’s chest to look down at him. “‘For as long as time will allow,’” Alastor said with a contented grin. He was still soaring from his own high, but he knew perfectly well what Angel meant— and Alastor had meant more,  _ wanted _ more.

“If we’re speaking frankly about confessions, Angel, I’ll have you know I meant what I said as well. You  _ may _ need to find yourself a translation, however,” he teased, his grin widening. He wasn’t going to hand  _ everything _ over to Angel so easily.

“Will you be staying?” he asked, leaning up to his elbows and looking down at Angel with warmth behind his eyes. “You  _ are _ welcome to, you know.  _ Mmn,  _ perhaps maybe in a cleaner state,” he suggested with an amused grin. They’d take care of that together, of course, before tucking in for the night.

Angel flushed at the inquiry and his heart fluttered in his chest. It wouldn't be the first time they spent the night together but being asked to stay by Alastor rather than the other way around made him feel wanted in a way that was as powerful as everything else they'd shared tonight. Of course he'd stay. He couldn't think of a single reason not to. 

"Yeah… cleanin' up sounds nice. As does curlin' up next ta you again," Angel murmured. Separating was bittersweet but necessary to properly shower off. Angel's fur was especially fluffy after a good toweling. He looked light, both in body and in spirit. Whatever tomorrow brought didn't matter. Tonight was too perfect to even consider it. 

As Angel curled up in Alastor's bed with him, everything felt peacefully quiet. With a soft brush of lips against his cheek, Angel bid Alastor goodnight, and lightly curled up against his side. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! ;)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit is hitting the proverbial fan! We're coming toward a tipping point in this story and we're excited to share it with you all. Thanks as always for all your feedback! Enjoy.

The next few days, life went on. Valentino seemed to smell happiness on Angel and plied him with empty compliments, each one poisonous, but Angel stayed anchored to Alastor, even when they weren't together. He thought of him and tried to keep Valentino's spell as broken as possible. He couldn't walk away from the moth demon. Not now, not ever, but his mind he tried to keep for himself. Red smoke haunted his dreams on the nights he spent alone. After a few days, Valentino was even so bold as to venture to Angel’s room. Angel hadn’t been able to refuse him, and miraculously, just as Valentino came into the room and began to weave some tempting offer about renegotiating their deal, there was a knock on his door.

Niffty had been waiting on the other side, squealing something about a phone call for him at the front desk, giving Angel the excuse he needed to exit the situation. By the time he got to the desk, there was no one on the phone. 

After that the rest of the week went on almost as normal. Charlie began organizing activities and giving lectures on how to be a good citizen that were excruciating and mind numbing. Angel sat through them, eyes trained forward, and tried to bear being in the same room with Valentino. By Friday, two more guests had checked in. Some reclusive mad scientist named Baxter (a name Angel couldn't help but snicker at) and a fluffy little thing named Crymini. She reminded Angel distantly of Cherri, but he didn’t pay the new guests too much mind. He was glad that Charlie had someone else to focus on for a change. 

Things were looking up at the hotel. People clearly began to believe in Charlie’s cause. Angel’s construction of the studio was going ahead on schedule. And when they could find the time, Alastor and Angel enjoyed stolen moments for themselves. Fleeting but well worthwhile in all the chaos. Husk was especially irritable when they were all in the same room together. The cat knew everything, but Angel and Alastor didn’t confirm or openly deny anything to him, merely laughed at the suggestion which stopped him from bringing it up. For the time being. 

Angel did as instructed by Alastor when Lucifer checked in. Laid out the idea that Alastor was up to something. This bought him radio silence from the King, which was unsettling, but also welcome. One less demon prying at him was good by Angel. He didn’t know what Alastor’s angle was with all this, but he trusted him enough not to pry. That, Angel surmised on Sunday morning, was probably a mistake. 

Angel was the first one out that morning, waiting with Charlie for the others to join them for one of her scheduled niceness exercises. Charlie called them “Morning Affirmations” but Angel would liken it to torture if he had his druthers. She was anxious to get started but all plans for the day were quickly derailed as the doors of the hotel swung open and the lobby was flooded with light. The sound of a cane clicking against the floor echoed with sure-footed strides as the light dissipated and the lobby was suddenly occupied by a small force of imps carrying furniture and boxes and wearing uniforms-- at the lead of this crowd was the King of Hell himself. 

"Dad?!" Charlie stumbled off her stool to greet him and he looked past her, meeting Angel's wide eyed gaze with a wink before opening his arms to his daughter. 

"My little crabapple! It's been too long!" 

Charlie hesitated and then hugged her father, her face screwed up, lower lip pouting slightly, brows tightly drawn. She cleared her throat and glanced around as all the imps began to go to work at once, cleaning the hotel, removing old furniture to make room for what they’d brought. It was absolute chaos in the lobby all at once. 

“Not that I’m not… glad to see you but uhhh… Why are you here?” Charlie rocked back onto her heels, twirling a lock of hair around her finger as she stared up at her father with big doe eyes. His wide grin didn’t falter and reminded Angel in a very unpleasant way of another man in his life who often wore an unwavering smile. He didn’t like drawing comparisons, but seeing the way Lucifer carried himself, Angel wondered if daddy issues played a part in Charlie accepting Alastor’s help. 

“I heard about all the guests you have now, and seeing that your venture here is taking off, I wanted to show a little support. So I hired you additional staff and am going to do a little updating to the decor for you.”

Lucifer spoke so calmly and easily, as if this was a foregone conclusion, that he’d always intended to help Charlie once she started gaining traction. Publicly endorsing her would have been better, Angel thought, but then again… Less sinners in hell probably affected Lucifer’s bottom line somehow.

“I thought we could catch up, have breakfast, you can introduce me to your guests. I want to see who my daughter is mentoring,” Lucifer looked around, hands folded over the top of his cane. His eyes fell on the family portrait on the wall and for a moment, his smile faltered at his eyes. He gestured at it, and the painting was gone, a mirror remaining in its place. Satisfied with that, he tilted his head to one side to take off his hat, tucking it and his cane under his arm. 

“Why don’t you give me the grand tour? Or perhaps you could gather everyone and your esteemed guest over there could do so for you?” Lucifer looked at Angel, eyes narrowing a fraction. Angel knew better than to open his mouth and say a word about their prior meetings or communications. Angel smiled back at him, tense as an imp suddenly came bounding over and handed Angel his morning coffee. The delivery driver was peeling away in a hurry, the screech of rubber echoing through the lobby. 

All the noise had drawn out Vaggie, and the moment she saw Lucifer, she rushed to Charlie’s side. Charlie gave her a pleading look and then whipped around to look at Angel, hands folded in front of her, quietly begging him to agree. 

“I’d be honored, ya Majesty,” Angel purred, putting on flirtatious airs. It’d get the job done. Nervousness was already getting the better of him. He crossed the lobby to stand beside Lucifer. Niffty came into the lobby, dragging Husk by his paw, clearly upset by the state of things. Angel held back a sigh. This was beginning to feel like a French farce. 

Everything and everyone had settled in nicely, and Alastor had a hand in balancing all of it— constructing some of it, and meddling in the rest. Valentino pushed and vied for attention from Angel and Alastor answered with a casual but infecting suggestion through Niffty. Angel and the others were being slowly lobotomized by Charlie’s enthusiasm and Alastor created the out they were all desperately yearning for. These were all small favors but all of them accumulated into something massive and consuming.

The Hotel began to breathe with him. The link between Alastor and the wooden doors began to grow more powerful with every passing day. He was present in the wallpaper, the wooden railings, and the gilding that sparkled brightly on the ornate carvings adorning the bar. It became easier to know when his moments of opportunity would come with Angel. Alastor would act greedily, and sometimes hastily, giving and taking brazenly in places that weren’t normally sheltered from prying eyes. It didn’t happen as often as it had before with so many occupants filing into the Hotel, but he was getting acquainted in all the ways in making those moments count.

With all of Alastor’s entanglement in the Hotel, he was acutely aware when the doors swung open on what had become his domain. The Hotel wasn’t directly his, but it bent and twisted to his will and when it bent to another’s, he was torn from the intoxication of his own growing influence.

In the picture’s replacement, Alastor stewed silently with interest on the opposite side of the mirror. The flames that had been calmly licking the air within the lobby fireplace stoked with curiosity and intrigue.

Lucifer, on his doorstep.

“Ohh, what fun,” he grinned wildly to himself, his eyes narrowing into slits.

Alastor watched them assemble, but couldn’t find it within himself to simply wait for opportunity— he needed to take it. He emerged in double breasted burgundy, pinstriped and full of teeth. Alastor’s footsteps echoed like heavy cloven hooves as he descended the curved staircase and his claw shaped nails raked down the wood with every step. He carried himself like the well cut devil he knew himself to be, full of self-admiration and bravado— all wrapped in a healthy dose of theatrics and panache.

A studio audience cheered and hollered, signifying the Radio Demon’s casual entrance. He strode down the stairs with a wide smile, reaching out his hand to pluck his microphone out of thin air.

“Do my eyes deceive me?” he called down the stairs, trudging down them with a light spring in his step. “Or is that really your Father come to visit, Charlie? I believe I’d call that eyeronic, now wouldn’t you?” Hushed audience laughter followed.

Alastor approached from the landing and gave everyone a thorough once over, except Angel— there was eye contact, if only for a brief moment.

“I knew that your little pet project was doing well, my dear, but this is simply delightful! People have been lining up, practically dying to get in, but this—” another pause for audience laughter and chatter, the sound of a tuning dial crinkled with the swivel of his head turning. “This is certainly an entertaining development!” Radio waves crackled and popped in the background, winding around heads and into ears with ease.

“Might I join you?” he asked with a pleasant chirp, approaching Lucifer with a charming smile.

The addition of Alastor to this equation was altogether too much for Charlie. And Angel, for that matter. Angel didn't look Alastor's way for more than a fraction of a moment. Two ships passing in the night. He even attempted to hold himself aloofly in Alastor's presence. His stage persona was on and at the forefront. He would have to be Angel Dust completely. No glimmers of Anthony shining through. He swallowed, tensing slightly as Lucifer didn't even seem to breathe in Alastor's presence. He was eerily still, face unmoving. He let that moment after Alastor asked to join hang for a very uncomfortable amount of time. 

Niffty was scurrying after imps, complaining about the mess, Husk was shooing them away from the bar, and Charlie, Angel, Lucifer, and Alastor were trapped in an uncomfortable silence. 

"Oh!" Lucifer exclaimed. Angel jumped, looking away to hide the startled expression he now wore. Lucifer's arm snaked around one of Angel's own, and he clicked his tongue. "You're done? Right. I can never tell with your theatrics. I suppose that means I should answer your question."

Charlie gave her father a withering look. He didn't seem to notice. Angel felt Lucifer's arm tighten against his own. 

"I hardly feel that's necessary. Three's a crowd, after all."

An intentional slight. Lucifer's grin seemed a little wider. Angel didn't like being party to this. He also didn't dare pull away or speak up. Lucifer shrugged and began to bodily turn Angel away. 

"However, it would be rude to turn away such hospitality, wouldn't it? I won't tell you no."

Angel silently wished he would. 

"Shall we, then?" 

Their silence was a stalemate, but Alastor wasn’t going to concede so easily. He waited with an expectant smile, one hand grasping his microphone mid-shaft and tucked behind his back while the other was outstretched in friendly curiosity. Even when Lucifer deigned it an acceptable time to respond, Alastor’s armor refused to crack— not outright, not to the naked eye.

Microphone feedback— a shrill whine and a retuning of dials.

Alastor broke into rehearsed laughter, drawing his shoulders up only to release them dramatically with a practiced shrug.

“How silly of me to assume, of course! Enjoy yourselves!” Alastor encouraged, waving a palm at them. “You know what they say about assuming things.”

“It makes an ass outta’—” Husk began, leaning on the bartop. He knew this one.

“It’s rude,” Alastor clapped back, his head turning unnaturally fast towards Husk. The look on the cat’s face read as terror despite the rest of the Hotel being well out of view of Alastor’s. What Husk had seen very well may have turned the booze addicted feline white. Alastor cleared his throat with a delicately clenched and clawed fist in front of his mouth. Composure.

“Please, enjoy yourselves! I’m sure you’ll be very— erm, proud, or something or other,” he explained flippantly, turning his attention towards the bar. He gestured to Husk, requesting something dark and bitter to wash the taste of rejection out of his mouth. The microphone disappeared into thin air and with it, his disappointment.

Once he came into closer proximity, Husk softened warily and eyed Alastor cautiously.

“‘the fuck was that? You alright?” he asked quietly, leaning in.

“If you don’t shut up, I will bring out that bright red light you seem to like so much,” he threatened.

“Hey, you said you’d keep that between us.”

“Do not tempt me,” Alastor replied with eye contact and a wild grin over his coffee.

Angel let himself be pulled away, feeling like he'd been punched in the gut. Watching Alastor be so openly insulted didn't sit right with him. He couldn't let his anger born of affection show on his face. He smiled, just like he would for Valentino in the studio. They swept down the halls and once Lucifer was satisfied they were out of earshot he spoke again. 

"Yout room, if you would, Anthony. We need to catch up. Privately."

Angel lead the way, feeling raw. This was wrong. His inner sanctum. He didn't want Lucifer in his room. Around his pet. Around what little privacy he had left. Yet, who was he to refuse the king of hell? Once they got there, Angel guided him inside and cleared his robe off of the chair in front of his vanity so Lucifer could take a seat. 

"You're setting in well. I've been keeping up with the studio progress and have decided to invest in it. I'd like to be your benefactor."

Angel dropped onto the edge of his bed and stared, dumbstruck at Lucifer. Of course having him invest was a huge boon, but at what cost? Could he even say no? He didn't think so. He exhaled and nodded. 

"I'm honored, ya majesty."

"Ahfl-tu-tuh… remember what we discussed?"

"Of course… I… Thank you, Lucifer."

The name felt filthy in his mouth. He didn't like speaking with such familiarity with Lucifer, but his hands were tied. He conceded. Lucifer's gloves fingers took Angel by the jaw and forced eye contact. 

"What has he been up to?" 

Angel took a deep breath and painted on a small smile. 

"The usual. Disruptions. Scheming. Hard to say. He doesn't exactly share what he's thinking for real with me. I'm tryin', Lucifer, I promise."

Lucifer released him and stood, nodding as he internalized Angel’s report. He cracked his neck, the popping echoing louder than it ought to have in the small, well decorated space. He extended a hand to Angel, helping him back to his feet. 

“Perhaps I’ll have to see for myself for a bit. Shall we continue the tour, then?”

Angel nodded, leading the way through the rest of the Hotel, showing Lucifer everything he knew how to, until they finally circled back, nearly forty minutes later. When they returned to the lobby it was in a much different state than they’d left it. It was well put together with sleeker, nicer furniture, there were imps standing by to assist guests, and Charlie was looking far more apprehensive than she had before. 

Lucifer stepped away from Angel's side to join the others at the bar. 

"Thank you all for waiting so patiently," he eyed Alastor, pointed in the way he raked his eyes down the radio demon's form. 

"Charlotte, darling. I've made a decision," he placed a hand on her shoulder, drawing her into a half hug. The visible discomfort she displayed at hearing her first name made Vaggie clench her teeth so hard, Angel was sure he heard them screech together. Lucifer took another long look around the lobby and then back to Charlie. 

"I'll be staying for a couple days. To make sure you get settled with the new staff, and see how you're getting on."

"Dad, I don't think--" 

"Good! That's settled. I promise to not out stay my welcome."

Alastor was eerily still. Plastered smile, rigid shoulders. He contained the raw state he’d been worked into by Lucifer's minions. They were meddling in the ambiance of the Hotel— the one he had rehabilitated for his own interest’s sake. It, of course, was under the guise of Charlie’s, but the aesthetic was dated and warm. It spoke of a different time and an affinity for antlers and lithe but skittish forest dwelling mammals. Alastor was written all over it, but now it was all but erased. The clutch he had over his domain was quickly slipping from his fingers with the presence and influence of one very wide smile and a set of apathetic eyes.

He boiled.

He could feel Lucifer’s heated stare when they returned. It worked up from a twitching ear tip down to a pointed toe, but Alastor didn’t budge— instead he willed himself down to a controlled simmer from behind his tight but playful smile and sipped his coffee. Upon hearing Lucifer’s declaration, it took all of his practiced poise not to spit his mouthful back out into his mug.

It hit him in waves. First, panic and then utter and complete discomfort.

“Now, that’s the best news I’ve heard all day!” Alastor interjected, pivoting on his seat. It was a little too elated, but his ability to sell his facade in situations like this proved useful— and convincing. 

“I believe a celebration is in order, isn’t it, Charlie? Might I suggest a dinner with all of your esteemed guests?” he added, turning his very pointed attention over to her. The mirthful glisten in his eye was perfectly manufactured but completely obscured the roiling volcano underneath.

The display Alastor put forth was convincing, enough so that it drew a groan from Husk. He didn’t much care for the idea of having a sit down meal with Lucifer that evening. The day was early yet, so he immediately began pounding more booze to put up with what was to come later. Charlie huffed a nervous laugh and rubbed her upper arm, shrinking in on herself. Vaggie slipped her fingers between Charlie’s. She gave the most reassuring smile she could muster and squeezed her hand. Charlie nodded. 

“That sounds splendid,” Lucifer mused. His eyes were keenly trained on Alastor, drinking everything in, analyzing, and not for a moment did he try to conceal exactly what he was doing. Why should he? What could any of them really do? Angel glanced between Lucifer and Alastor, and then took a seat at the bar, leaning across toward Husk for a drink. This was a Corpse Reviver kind of morning. He sipped his drink, watching Charlie process all of this. She’d completely lost control of the situation, and he could see it was wearing on her. 

“I’ll… let the guests know, then. Uh… we were going to do… some affirmations this morning. It’s part of the whole program I put together. But we can do it later, over dinner. I think everyone will need time to prepare and rearrange their schedules to fit in dinner,” Charlie mumbled. Lucifer gave her a half hug and then released her, slipping away. 

“I can probably make it, no problem, princess. I should be done at the studio long before dinnertime,” Angel was trying to be kind, offer some kind of reassurance that at least one person in this room gave a shit about her other than her girlfriend. Maybe she wasn’t Angel’s favorite person, but he wasn’t going to leave her hanging out to dry. 

“Good, that’s… Great, Angel. Thanks. I’ll have to check in with the others, too.”

Angel cleared his throat and forced a wider smile. 

“Lemme help. I got time to go chat up a couple’a people before I head out!”

Anything to get away from whatever the hell was happening between Lucifer and Alastor. Angel felt a strange, gnawing, unpleasantness forming in the pit of his stomach as he watched the way Lucifer looked at the Radio Demon. His Radio Demon. Like he was sizing up his next meal before diving in to devour it. It didn’t sit well. Angel recognized the feeling, and wasn’t ready to confront it just yet. Jealousy. He was jealous. He didn’t want Alastor roped into whatever that pompous blonde fallen fucker had in mind. His skin prickled as he wondered distantly if that read on his face. He tucked into his drink, draining the glass and standing. 

“That’d be a huge help, actually. Could you go talk to Valentino? Baxter doesn’t seem to like you very much, and Crymini was still sleeping last I went to check in on her,” Charlie asked, eyes wide and brows furrowed. She knew this was a big ask, and an unpleasant one, but from her perspective, the two of them had made progress. Angel didn’t agree, but he’d already made the offer. He sucked it up and nodded. 

“Sure, princess,” he said, standing and straightening his clothes, “It’s been swell, ya Majesty. I’ll see ya at dinner.”

He turned and gave everyone else a little wave. 

“Until later.”

His eyes flicked to Alastor, hoping for one last glance to ground him before he headed into the lion’s den. At mention of Valentino, Lucifer’s interest was piqued. His eyes tore away from Alastor toward Angel. They narrowed as he scrutinized Angel. Those yellow eyes picked him apart in an instant, but he made no move to say anything. He simply snapped his fingers and a couple of his imps scurried off to begin bringing luggage in from his vehicle parked outside. Most of which were various cases for instruments. 

“The penthouse, little ones!” he called to them, so they knew just where to take his belongings. Angel slowly drifted off and down the hall. Lucifer turned to Charlie once more before she could slip away too. 

“Charlotte. I do love what you’ve done with the place. It never looked so good when I still ran it. I know you don’t mind my sprucing it up a bit more, for you, right?” 

Charlie nodded weakly and then bent to give her father a quick peck on the cheek. 

“I’ll be back in a bit. I’ve gotta go check on the guests and let them know about the change of plans,” she said, and then departed with Vaggie in tow. The lobby was quickly clearing out. Now it was Husk, Alastor, Lucifer, and the occasional flitting image of Niffty in the background, trying to keep up with the new staff as they continued to organize. 

“So, my furry friend, what kind of libations do you have back there? It may be early, but if all of you drink this early, what could one hurt? Lemme think… An appletini, perhaps?” Lucifer loomed over Husk at the bar, setting his hat on the top and resting his cane against it. “And what about you, Alastor? What’s your drink of choice?”

He propped an elbow on the bar, pressing his cheek against his fist, and turned more fully toward the other demon.

As much as he wanted to, Alastor couldn’t pay any mind to Angel— not even for a second. If attention were a rifle, Lucifer was aiming it and looking squarely down the sight. He was welling up with concern, but it was just another emotion he had to stifle in order to remain in control. Instead, he appeared pleased that his suggestion had been taken to heart. If all of the occupants of the Hotel remained together, Alastor’s watchful eye would be privy to all of their shared business at once. A cunning manipulation that had control nestled in the heart of it.

He relaxed back against the bar, releasing the charmingly vintage coffee cup from his hand onto the smooth wooden bartop. Alastor was perched, spine straight and glistening in his aloofness. Being in Lucifer’s company was always a dance, and he knew what would happen if he didn’t stay in the lead. The last time he didn’t he wound up nearly upside down in Lucifer’s grasp, dipped and hung out in front of Vox— although the victory had certainly been worth it.

The first step of their figurative waltz would be a playful back and forth, hinting at a forwardness that Alastor often found himself maneuvering around; employing the use of coy and careful wordplay. Still, he’d have to offer something of himself in order to sate Lucifer’s curiosity. It couldn’t be all lies, deception and manipulation. His attention turned slowly, turning his shoulders to better match those that were turned towards him. Last was his head, then his eyes. Alastor’s grin was easy, but a little bothered— a hint that teased at his hurt from previously scorned attention.

It was thick, but to the naked eye, Alastor was still just as cheerful as ever.

He hummed a thoughtful note, pulling his attention away from Lucifer and feigning a moment where he thought better than to reveal something so easily about himself. Alastor pretended to cave.

“It’s doubtful that you ever heard of it,” he confessed, nodding to Husk for one. He caught Lucifer’s eyes with his own and crossed his legs easily. “They were quite popular at the height of my time, from where I came from. I prefer a sazerac compared to anything else.”

Lucifer laughed softly, though his face didn’t move as he did so. The sound seemed to come from around him rather than directly from him. He stared Alastor down as if looking at something particularly endearing and sighed. His smile twisted into something closer to a sneer and he shook his head. 

“Didn’t we already have a conversation about assuming, Allie?” he tapped the tip of Alastor’s nose with his finger and leaned back on his stool unnaturally far. He looked as though he was suspended by invisible strings as he waved a hand through the air. “Ahh, to be so young and full of confidence! Why, it’s almost cute!”

He leaned forward again with a sudden jerk, face within inches of Alastor’s own.

“But I should take your assumptive statement as a compliment. I must look wonderful for my age! Oh-- what am I saying?” He rolled his eyes, swiveling on his stool to lean toward Husk, who he plucked his drink from and winked at, as if they were sharing an inside joke, “Of course I do.”

He took a sip of his unnaturally green drink and licked his teeth in satisfaction. 

“Allie, dear. I know you were taught to respect your elders, weren’t you? And your betters. I’m both. So do tread carefully. That being said. Good taste! Lovely drink!”

He set his apple martini down and clapped his hands together. 

“So! I must know, what have you been up to since we last saw one another? Not thinking of disobedience, are you?”

Husk was visibly perturbed by all of this as he mixed Alastor’s drink, taking his time to make sure it was balanced but strong. It looked to Husk as though Alastor would need it. However, his attention was clearly divided. He kept glancing toward where Angel had disappeared to, and then back to Alastor. His bouncing gaze was not lost on Lucifer, but he simply stowed the observation away for later. As he awaited Alastor’s answer, he pulled out his phone and began sending off a text. A simple display to show Alastor had not earned his undivided attention. Husk slid the drink across the bar to Alastor and tried to give him some kind of reassurance, but mostly he just grimaced.

Alastor grew tight around the eyes. He internalized the discomfort he felt by Lucifer’s abrupt physical contact and didn’t quite understand what he meant. He hadn’t intended to assume this time, but he often found himself disconnected from the state of the world beyond his time. He skirted discomfort but embraced confusion. His grin was uneven and questioning, even as he grabbed his drink.

“How positively ridiculous of me!” he replied with a laugh that flirted with uncharacteristic and subdued uneasiness. He passed eye contact from Lucifer to Husk, taking a long swig and flooding his mouth. Judging by the strength, Husk was fully aware of what kind of support he required in order to deal with their far too comfortable exchange.

“Why, I hadn’t realized they had gotten so popular— or that you were even present in New Orleans at the time!” Alastor didn’t owe him an explanation or an apology, but the threat of insinuating an offense put him on uneven ground. Alastor didn’t like dealing with Lucifer unless they hovered at least near level— and that would only happen if he maintained control.

He took one more sip and swallowed with haste, clearing his throat while he processed Lucifer’s additional inquiry. Alastor set his drink down, pleased with the sound of each chained word. Angel had mentioned it to Lucifer that he was planning or up to something after all. Was this why he was here? His grin widened, darkly clever and sparkling. Alastor laughed brightly, pressing his fingers tips to his sternum and basking in amusement.

Lucy, a proper riot as always!

“No!! No— nono no, no! Now, where would you ever get such a preposterous idea like that, Lucy?” he replied, feeling redeemed enough to match him with his own brand of familiarity. He leaned forward, pressing a palm to Lucifer’s knee with one smooth motion. Alastor beamed, swiveling his shoulders and shaking his head.

“I’ve only been up to the usual!” he reasoned, gesturing away from himself with a flippant and open palm. “Helping Charlie with this silly Hotel and idea of hers and, of course, my own interests,” meaning deals and other impulses, “But nothing as deceitful as that tone of yours would suggest! Besides, I don’t think you would have ever imagined my surprise when Valentino himself ambled in here with a peace offering.” Alastor only half-committed to rolling his eyes. He laughed, rolling a shoulder and digging back into his drink. He left the warmth of his palm on Lucifer’s knee to cool in the process.

“Believe it or not, I have indeed managed to keep myself entertained for the time being,” he admitted with a pleased hum, drowning in the delight of Lucifer actually being concerned.

“Or are you that excited to scold me again?”

Husk didn’t like the drop in Alastor’s tone, his face twisting in abject disgust. He turned away and busied himself with his own early morning supply and shuddered. 

Lucifer's eyes flicked downward toward Alastor's hand as he made contact. It was bold to initiate such a touch. His eyes narrowed a fraction and his lips curled in a close-mouthed smirk. He focused in on Alastor's gesticulation, his varying tone, and when finally asked and given a chance to speak, he sat on it for a bit. He let silence hang between them, still as could be. 

The dangers lurking beneath his still waters were not beyond Alastor's comprehension, but Lucifer wondered if perhaps he over estimated his ability to grapple with them. He stood a chance to come close. The interest he had in a sinner who had manages to harness so much when he came from the mortal world was curious. That's all his face betrayed. Curiosity. He sipped his drink and spoke again, coming to life in animated expression and gesture once more. 

"Not even my wife calls me Lucy! That's bold of you, but tit for tat," he winked. "As for scolding you…"

Husk turned away from the both of them, growing more tense as the moments passed. He caught a glimpse of Angel emerging from the hallway and met his eyes, but Angel's gaze was far off. His eyes were red rimmed. Husk's ears twitched to listen in on Lucifer's words as he watched Angel in favor of the strange display Alastor and Lucifer made. 

"Allie, if I wanted to scold you, I don't need a new reason. Your career here has given me enough ammunition to fire off a real tongue lashing," Lucifer's own tone pitches lower. Husk wrinkled his nose and gave Angel a little half wave that went unnoticed as he ambled toward the front door in a daze. 

"I'm only teasing, but I'm starting to think maybe the sinner doth protest too much! I feel as though I should be more suspicious of you!" 

Lucifer's hand fell heavy on Alastor's shoulder, giving it a squeeze as an imp dashed ahead of Angel to open the door for him. The King's eyes finally tore away from Alastor for only a moment to watch them go, and then he was on him again, prying eyes and a firm grip. Sharp fingers dug into Alastor. 

"I think my stay here will be quite enlightening."

Keeping up with Lucifer’s unpredictability was proving to be a challenge, even for Alastor. Energetic and then still, friendliness quickly turning into suspicion; it was enough to keep Alastor from settling into any sort of rapport he was trying to build. One thing was for certain, Lucifer wasn’t so easily charmed by his usual antics. Charisma and moxie weren’t going to buy him any favors. He couldn’t lie to himself, however— simply being in such competent and capricious company was positively thrilling.

It was just as entertaining as Alastor had hoped and Lucifer quickened him in a way that he hadn’t expected.

So wrapped up in it, in fact, he had nearly missed the quiet interaction between Husk and Angel, even the change in Lucifer’s attention towards the door. The hand on his shoulder didn’t serve to push his boundaries, but instead challenge them and Alastor was thrilled by it. He sat there, contending with himself if he should turn to look himself or ruminate in the danger Lucifer proposed.

Selfishness be damned.

Alastor half turned, a fraction of a moment after Lucifer, except his gaze lingered— after concern drew his jaw tight. The dig of Lucifer’s fingers brought him back from the brief moment where he drifted after Angel’s sorry state. He caught himself in pointed eye contact and realigned himself with the danger of the moment. Worrying about Angel would have to come later and not under the microscopic focus of Lucifer.

He smiled easily, releasing his drink and fully turning towards the King. He was finally aware of what angle he was going to take with him, and he’d drive it into the ground. There was one thing that Lucifer had been right about— tit for tat. That would be their constant exchange, that was for certain. 

“Oh, sha, I believe you shall,” he replied, the humid bayou cutting through each syllable. Alastor didn’t know how to stop. He couldn’t help himself. Lucifer pushed— Alastor would push harder. The threat was intoxicating. He put his hand over Lucifer’s and plucked it from his shoulder.

No, no— no more touching, thank you. We’re done with that.

Alastor pressed his hand over the top of Lucifer’s and took it in his other, sandwiching it nicely in between carbon black hands and red claws. He patted it gingerly before giving it back to Lucifer. His grin widened.

“In fact, why don’t you join me sometime for a game?” Alastor suggested in his usual timber, sliding back into pre recorded charm. “It might prove to be enlightening for both of us! Imagine, adequate competition for once— what a thrill!”

"Adequate for…? Both of us?" Lucifer laughed openly and let the unspoken slight hang in the air. He nodded and stood abruptly, smoothing down the front of his suit. "Splendid. Certainly. If we find the time I'm sure it will be very enlightening, indeed."

He polished off his drink and placed his hat back on his head with a flourish. He fixed Alastor with a crooked smile and a wink. He laughed again; this time it was low and throaty. He left a tip on the bar top for Husk and shook his head. 

"I've learned so much already," Lucifer mused, soft and sinister. "I wish I could stay and chat, but I should check to see how my things are being settled in and catch up with my bundle of joy."

There was the faintest hint of contempt at the mention of Charlie. Lucifer twirled his can as he stepped away from the bar, stopping to look back at Alastor over his shoulder. 

"I'll see you at dinner, Allie."

He wiggled his fingers in a Farewell and strode away, whistling some dated polka-esque tune as he went. Husk finally managed to turn back around and face Alastor with a withering look. 

"What the fuck was that?" 

Alastor hummed a reply, unbothered by Lucifer’s slight. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Their back and forth had run its course and Alastor was confident that Lucifer learned exactly what he wanted him to. He didn’t grace him with his self satisfied attention as he left. Instead Alastor let himself ruminate over their interaction and relax in front of the bar.

He was delighted— sated.

“He’s attempting to put me in my place, Husker,” he replied evenly, shutting his eyes over the last of his drink. His grin was warm with amusement and liquor. Alastor knew, at least had an inkling, of what Lucifer was trying to do. It was Alastor’s perfectly laid plan. The more time they spent with one another, the more Alastor could get what he wanted out of their developing rapport.

“Fear not, my dear boy!” Alastor chirped, setting down his freshly polished off glass. “It takes more than that to rattle my cage!” Alastor laughed and watched an interruption develop live on television. Katie and Tom delivered a headline and bright red words scrolled across the screen.

Alastor’s eyes narrowed and the air around him grew cold and dark. Interest rolled off of him in waves. The developing scenario couldn’t have come at a better time. Intervene, mitigate and look every bit the part of delicately flexed muscle. Harmless, but it played to the narrative that he may very well be up to something. He watched eggs scurry across the screen. Alastor would bring controlled chaos but ultimately resolution. He had done it once with the Serpent— he’d do it again.

“Whoa, hey,” Husk replied, lurching back a step. “You are not going to do what your weird fuckin’ face is tellin’ me you’re thinkin’ of doin’...”

He oozed off of the barstool and leaned a little further over the bar, pushing Husk out of the way to get a better look. Alastor’s horns swelled and splintered for a fraction of a moment and the wood whined beneath his hands.

“You— Al, listen, you can’t. Not with him here, you’re gonna get us all killed.”

Alastor found his composure and let out a lighthearted chuckle. He straightened himself and pulled his microphone companion out from thin air.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Husker! I only want to help! Besides, what’s a little sport before dinner anyways?” he reasoned with a jovial shrug. A little sport, a gentle reminder, and a whole lot of gasoline to the fire that was building inside of the Hotel.

Alastor strode out, quickly disappearing into the fray on the local news. The picture was pristinely violent on the television, but not excessive. Alastor brought a modicum of control and stamped out the competition without any obvious gain for himself— at least that’s what the television broadcasted. By the time they were through, the public attention waned— as well as the live feed, but Alastor’s finally had hit its peak.

“Aren’t you tired?” he asked, bending down at the knees to look closer at Sir Pentious on the ground. He leaned his cheek on his fist and grinned widely.

“Sssave your gloating, Alastor,” he coughed, weakly balancing himself on his elbows. Alastor let out a light chuckle and straightened Sir Pentious’ hat on his head.

“Me? Gloat?” he replied, letting out another amused laugh. “No nononono, I’m not here to gloat! I’m only here to move the dial in my favor!”

“What’sss that suppossed to mean?” The Serpent was indignant, although interested.

“Since I have your attention, allow me to explain— but first, how would you like to make a deal?”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting stickier by the second. Charlie's motivations are finally revealed! Big oof ahead.

Alastor returned before dinner, but in dire need of freshening up. There was yolk in his hair and venom drying on the leg of his slacks. He busied himself in his room, relieving himself from the filth of the scuffle. The halls had bowed and ached with every step he took down them and the weapon clad plaster had begun to do the same. He hummed and sang to himself, tightening up his appearance before exiting for the night.

He was light on his feet and the weight around him began to recede as he made his way down to the Lobby. Alastor paused his cheerful steps and halted at the top of the stairs. Red eyes turned to slivers and he turned his head towards Angel’s room. The distance he had put himself at and Lucifer’s meddling made it difficult to know for certain if the Spider lurked behind closed doors or not. It couldn’t have hurt to check.

Alastor knocked a rhythm on his door and straightened his tie. It felt like it had been forever since they had been in each other’s company since Lucifer arrived, but curiosity drove Alastor rather than caution. What had happened since he’d last seen him? How did he even feel about Lucifer’s presence? What was Husk’s face all about when he saw him leave? Lucifer’s? He had questions and concerns, but he’d kept all of them close to his chest.

Angel’s day had taken him places he hadn’t expected. A continuous stream of texts from Lucifer asking questions about the studio and its progress, the stress of him being in the hotel, and the after effects of being drawn into Valentino’s room had left him frazzled and feeling empty. He heard the knock but couldn’t will himself to move. He felt too heavy, too far gone. He didn’t want to betray anything going on between himself and Alastor to Lucifer, so all methods of grounding and coping he’d been using were lost to him today. Fat Nuggets nudged him, tugged his sleeve with his teeth, and dragged him from his stupor. He carried himself to the door on weak legs and opened it. It was both a relief and an additional stressor to see Alastor waiting in the doorway. 

“Hey,” he greeted, voice soft and eyes distant. He stepped aside without another thought to allow Alastor inside. He didn’t want to worry him, and began to rub at his eyes to clear the lingering fog. He took a deep breath and dropped onto his bed with a sharp exhale. His jacket was abandoned, tossed over the back of his vanity chair, and his boots much the same at the foot of his bed. Fat Nuggets trotted up to Alastor, oinking pointedly at him and plopping down to sit as he’d been taught. 

“What can I do for ya, Al?”

Angel’s words came out stilted and far too formal, given the nature of their quickly developing relationship. He was stinging with jealousy, aching with exhaustion, and swimming with thoughts of the conversations he’d had today. When he’d returned, Husk had been kind enough to fix him up with a drink and allow him the indiscretion of a small breakdown. No one but Valentino and Charlie seemed at all pleased that Valentino was here. Much as he trusted Alastor, he didn’t want to talk about it. Not now. He didn’t look at Alastor, but focused on a spot on the wall just past his shoulder that was covered in small candid photographs. He had a couple of everyone except Alastor. Not for lack of trying, but the deer was impossible to photograph. 

Angel felt so empty that it was swallowing up everything else. His phone chimed again, and he pulled it out to glance at the ID. Lucifer again. He didn’t want to keep him waiting, but he could spare a few moments to catch up with Alastor first. He tried for a smile, but it faltered at his eyes. He was doing the best he could, and he hoped at the very least, Alastor could see that. Stolen moments like this would be harder to come by with Lucifer in the building.

Alastor stepped in, gracefully cutting through the sliver of space Angel gave him. It was hurried; an attempt to keep his entrance brief from anyone who might have passed by. Fat Nuggets had been quick to approach and the sight of the little hellpiglet caused Alastor’s closed mouth smile to widen. He gave him a quick and gentle pat, a scratch underneath the chin. That was always the spot. The pig’s eyes and inky splotches began to glow warmly and Alastor’s smile mirrored much of the same sentiment. He stood back up, unbuttoning the single button that had been fastened on his suit jacket and smoothed down his dress shirt as he addressed Angel.

“Angel, I—“ he began, eyes tight and shoulders rigid. He knew something was wrong. It didn’t take magic to see it or some preternatural gift. Angel was distant— receded into himself.

“I only wanted to see you, if that was alright,” Alastor confessed with a careful smile and an equally careful step towards him. The formality felt like it wasn’t an alright thing to want— but he couldn’t wrap his mind around what he had done to garner this kind of perceived coldness from the Spider. Something was off and different— bad different, and he wasn’t sure if he had done anything to cause it.

Alastor took it upon himself to finish approaching Angel, and he didn’t hesitate to kneel in front of him. He eased himself in between his knees for closeness and took one of his hands into both of his own. Fingers squeezed and rubbed, making an effort to supply compassion and care. He looked up, curious and hopeful— nearly pleading. Whatever Angel was going through and the tension that weighed him down indicated that he should tread carefully, but he had to be sure that he hadn’t caused it.

If he did, he’d do everything in his power to make it right.

“Did I— did I do something wrong?” he asked, searching for the answer in distant eyes. Alastor’s mouth nearly faltered with concern but cooler heads prevailed.

“Is there something I can do?” All Angel simply had to do was ask. No ulterior motives, no deals— it was just because he had simply come to care for him. If mountains needed moving or the sky needed parting, Alastor would do it for him without question.

Alastor's touch was grounding. Warmth crept back into Angel's fingers and traveled up his arm. His chest tightened at the question. No. Alastor wasn't to blame for any of this. It wasn't his fault at all. He shook his head and tried to clear the last bit of cloudiness clinging to his mind. 

"No, Al. Ya didn't do anything wrong, sweets. I promise, and ya came to see me. That's helpin' already… It's just been… Been a rough day, that's all. I'll bounce back," Angel was tired and sluggish with his words. He covered Alastor's hands with his own and gave him his best attempt at a reassuring squeeze. He leaned down and brushed a soft kiss over the apple of Alastor's cheek and dropped his head to Alastor's shoulder. 

"I missed ya, today."

He deflated and sagged with the invisible weight of the day on his shoulders. He felt like melting off the edge of the bed and into a puddle on the floor. 

"I'm more worried about you. Lucifer was all ova' you t'day. You doin' okay? He can be… intense."

His inquiry served a double purpose. He was concerned but it also side stepped his own day and deflected to Alastor's own. 

Reassurance was a balm to Alastor’s concern. It came in the form of kisses and soft words, pouring freely from the Spider he had come to adore so fondly. The air around him lifted with it. Ears stood taller and more alert, a tail thudded mildly underneath the loose edge of his jacket. With Angel relaxed against his shoulder, he wrapped his arms around him. Gentle and grounding palms slid firmly over the curve of his spine as he listened to him speak. He selfishly wished that everything else would stop outside Angel’s door— no dinner or socialist, no Lucifer.

“I wish that I could have been with you today, too, cher,” he replied in kind to Angel’s mention of him missing his presence. The sentiment was the same. He felt the empty hole constantly without the other’s presence.

He backed out of their hug and gently grabbed Angel’s face to better look at his overworked eyes. They’d spilled tears today and he felt guilt for being unable to wipe them away. Still, there was the elephant in the room that Angel decided to address. 

“You needn’t worry about me, Angel,” Alastor offered with a gentle smile. He was flattered by all of his caring. It was such a simple and beautiful thing. Alastor cherished it in silence and behind his closed lipped grin.

“Truthfully, I expected nothing less out of him— and I believe your word choice fits to describe the both of us perfectly, wouldn’t you think?” he asked, chuckling softly. It was clear that he wasn’t concerned. It was a delicate dance, but Alastor knew the steps.

“I may have done something to feed my own thirst for amusement today, but I made sure to abide by previously expressed warnings,” he offered, looking rather pleased with himself. Utter destruction would have to come after the next cleanse. No squabbles with Overlords. Maintain order, behave. Alastor had with Sir Pentious, but he got as close to the line as he possibly could have without stepping over. In the end, he’d gained another step up in keeping an upper hand on the underworld— and it all came about due to a handshake.

Hand to slithering hand.

“I find it rather difficult to help myself like this,” Alastor added with a half shrug. “Danger is unique and entertaining in a very different way than other methods.”

Angel couldn't help himself. He laughed, openly showing his fondness for Alastor's predilections. There was something endearing about Alastor's inability to not toy with fire. His brows creased with minor concern, but he knew that Alastor was more than capable of holding his own. Against Lucifer? Maybe less so. Still. If anyone could stand toe to toe it was likely Alastor. 

"You're playin' a dangerous game, sweets. I don't wanna sound like some distressed dame, but I can't help worryin' a bit," he sighed and nudged his forehead against Alastor's own, eyes slipping shut. "I don't wanna lose ya, okay?" 

He pulled back as there was a sudden, sharp knock at his door. Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Angel stiffened as a familiar lilting voice called to him. 

"Anthony! You're going to be late for dinner," Lucifer sing-songed through the paneling. Angel took Alastor's face in his hands and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. 

"Go, he can't find ya here. We'll talk more lata," Angel whispered. He released Alastor and stood quickly, striding toward the door. He cast one backward glance at Alastor and quickly shooed him with a flick of his wrist and a nervous glance. 

"Just a minute, Lucifer! I ain' presentable just yet!" Angel swept his fingers through his hair and straightened his clothes before opening the door just wide enough to fit through. He'd forgotten his jacket in his haste and the look he received from Lucifer made that slip up immediately apparent. It was bordering on salacious, drinking in the open chest of his pristine white button down. His fluff was on full display, and the high waist of his black mini-skirt cut a suggestive silhouette without his jacket to add structure. 

"A bit revealing for dinner, don't you think? Not that I'm complaining!" Lucifer beamed at him as he spoke, tone edging toward playful. Angel laughed nervously and Lucifer took a step closer. 

"I can change real quick if ya think I shou--" 

Lucifer crowded him against the door and shook his head. 

"Oh no, Anthony. Don't dream of it. Come on. We shouldn't keep everyone else waiting."

Lucifer's low tone sent a shiver down Angel's spine. He knew what a drop like that implied. The sudden shift in their rapport was giving him whiplash. Whatever had changed today, Angel was scared for the impact it was about to have on the rest of this visit. 

He allowed himself to be escorted to the dining hall where Lucifer's imps had laid out a lovely meal for everyone. Lucifer didn't hesitate to take his seat at the head, directing Angel to his right and his daughter to his left. Valentino was quick to settle in beside Angel as everyone ambled toward seats as well. Angel tried not to look totally uncomfortable and plastered on a tight smile. He casually tried to find Alastor's eyes at the table for even the briefest of moments. 

"This is lovely!" Lucifer announced, "How was everyone's day? Alastor… Why don't you start us off?" 

Lucifer's eyes bore into Alastor as he plainly pressed the subject of what Alastor had done today. Charlie shrank in her seat and took Vaggie's hand beneath the table. This was already too much. 

The intrusion came as an uninvited guest, showing up abruptly and cutting in on one of the few precious moments Alastor would be able to steal away with Angel as danger loomed precariously over their heads. He was grateful for Angel’s concern and his gentle warning. Losing Angel wasn’t an option for Alastor— not for fear of losing part of himself with him. Separation would be devastating. Stumbling upon such beautifully consuming companionship allowed him to find a piece of himself that he hadn’t realized he was missing. Someone who understood him, allowed him to be who he was, the good, the bad, the abhorrent— Angel’s continued acceptance made his chest ache with such a delicate fondness that he could scarcely comprehend it sometimes. Alastor didn’t know where to begin to say all of the things he had grown to feel, but he made efforts everyday in order to express it.

Today, it was just a simple visit, some caring words and closeness. It wasn’t enough. Angel deserved more. He promised himself he’d do better— he had to.

Alastor nodded, releasing Angel after their kiss and watched him retreat towards the door. Lucifer was pulling him out of the grasp of his company, but it was something that Alastor had come to expect with him present at the Hotel. He knew the moment was stolen and a risk. Being careful meant having to relent to the King’s meddling no matter what the situation might have been. He hid himself away and migrated through the shadows of the Hotel, finally coming to the main dining hall to settle in for their planned dinner affair.

The other head of table was open until Alastor made himself at home there. He had settled in, carefully propped up opposite of Lucifer when the inquiry came from across the table.

“Why, maintaining order and protecting the Hotel, of course!” he explained cheerfully, his grin wide and pleased. “You see, this shady character of ill repute had been a threat to Charlie’s endeavors before! I simply needed to remind him that acting out of line was a poor decision in regards to his well-being.” He chuckled and preened.

“I don’t believe he’ll be a threat to you anymore.” His attention was on Charlie, looking for some kind of thanks— that was the apparent angle, at least. “I aspsolutly guarantee it!” Alastor laughed at his own pun, entertained by regaling the memory to himself in his head. He wasn’t going to lie about it, but he was certainly going to leverage it. 

The collective groan at Alastor's pun helped break some of the tension at the table, but not all of it. Charlie laughed with tightly drawn brows and a smile that didn't reach her eyes, giving Vaggie's hand a squeeze. 

"I appreciate the gesture, Al, but--" 

"It's fine, my little crabapple. You can't reach everyone with kindness," Lucifer cut in, eyes drifting away from Alastor to tuck into his meal. "How did your exercises go, dear?" 

He diverted attention away from Alastor and engaged Charlie in quiet conversation about the day's redemptive work. Baxter stalwartly avoided actually engaging even when Charlie addressed him and Crymini had nothing much to add, seemingly in edge at having the King himself at the table. Valentino, however, spoke up with quiet confidence. 

"I think I'm makin' great progress… still a lot of bridges to mend, but the most important one is here with me. Makes it easier. Right, Angleca… Angel."

Charlie beamed with pride as Valentino spoke but Angel stared into his food, unflinching and cold. Valentino's hand came to rest on Angel's shoulder and there was a clatter of silverware as Angel dropped his fork. 

"We're mendin' old wounds, right?" 

Husk's fur tufted as he prickled with irritation and Niffty averted her wide eye. Angel sat still as could be and his breath came a little faster, a little more shallow. He forced a smile and looked toward Charlie. 

"Yeah. Everything's peachy keen," he deadpanned. Lucifer cleared his throat and snapped his fingers. Valentino's hand suddenly found itself snatched away from Angel's shoulder by an imp in waiting. 

"Overly familiar gestures make for an uncomfortable dinner," he mused, smiling slyly at the moth, "Keep your hands to yourself."

There was a long pause in which Valentino sat silently, eyes wide behind his glasses. He nodded slowly. 

"Yes your majesty. My apologies. Easy to forget, since Angel and I have so much history. Won't happen again," his words oozed, smooth as honey, but Lucifer was unphased by any charm Valentino's tone held. 

"Good."

Lucifer's gaze fell on Alastor. He was watching intently for any reaction.

Alastor had begun to loom in his chair as the conversation began to unfold. He didn’t eat, nor did he drink— but he did watch acutely. Valentino’s audacity hit a nerve. To even consider that such an impudent piece of filth could ever hope to reform themselves was preposterous— to even consider it was willfully ignorant. They had all earned their place at the table, some more than others.

Click.

Tap-tap-tap.

His sharp chin was resting in his hand, a nest of fingers balancing his sharp and pointed attention. Pinkie. Click. Subtly squinting red eyes were boring massive holes. The re-tuning and fuzz of a radio cut through the vacancies in conversation. Fore-middle-index. Tap-tap-tap. Jaw tight, muscles flexing. The removal of an offending hand. Alastor was boiling beneath his practiced surface, canned heat. Click. He looked away at the mention of history and impropriety— uncomfortable. Tap-tap-tap. He caught Husk’s eyes, who had been staring at the source of the noise on the wooden arm of the high backed wooden chair that Alastor had been sitting in.

If he had noticed, who hadn’t?

Alastor resituated himself and straightened his jacket around his torso, refusing eye contact with anyone at the table— bothered. He was often put off by physical contact, but strictly in relation to himself. However, Angel, even in his own words, had openly admitted to being Alastor’s, a part of him— an extension. In that line of thinking it was no wonder he was uncomfortable and stifle it as he tried, it didn’t appear to be working.

Anger and discomfort never sat well with him and it often created a perfect storm for him to fall victim to. He had a choice to make, be silent and simmer or act on his pent up anger and lash out. The latter being brave, bold, and foolhardy. Alastor argued with himself to let it go. 

He couldn’t.

“I don’t think there’s a single soul in Hell that isn’t aware of your history with Angel Dust, Valentino!” he replied with a sharp laugh, snatching up his drink.

“In fact, that reminds me! Charlie, I believe I had a question for you!” His glee was uncomfortably misplaced on the corners of his wide smile.

It was cruel.

“Al— don’t,” Husk warned, and Niffty shook her small worried head. Their wellbeing went along with Alastor’s and if he suffered for any of his indiscretions, they feared that they might incur the retaliation same too. Guilt by association.

“Now, now, don’t worry!” he replied, waving his fingers idly in Husk’s direction. “It’s only a small one!” In the silence, a pin could drop and be heard. Alastor was ablaze and incensed by Valentino. His presence wouldn’t have been a complication if Charlie hadn’t felt the need to preach her message to anyone and everyone who would have listened or wanted free room and board. She’d hurt Angel in the process and now he was being paraded around like a puppet— and one that he couldn’t help. How she couldn’t see Valentino was taking advantage of her was beyond him.

Alastor would be merciless in supplying her the wake up call she so desperately needed.

“Why, I only wanted to know if you had known!” Alastor asked, the crackle quickly fading from his voice. Brave, bold, and foolhardy it was. The words began to sink deep into the range of his dark and twisted register.

“Or was it intentional?”

The swing was psychological and Alastor knew she could be a fragile thing, and doing it in front of everyone, even her Father, could make her feel worthless and guilty— and to Alastor, she deserved it. Angel didn’t.

If Alastor was going to shoot, he sure as hell knew that he’d better not miss.

Charlie was at a loss for words as Alastor directed righteous anger in her direction. Vaggie fumed beside her, starting to stand, but a steady hand on her shoulder urged her back into her seat. Charlie’s expression turned sour, full of hurt and indignation. To be called out so frankly was only fair, and she was taking a breath, steeling herself, and trying to pretend that her father wasn’t sitting beside her. Lucifer’s amusement fell and he bore only surprised curiosity as he looked between Alastor and Charlie. He wasn’t here to fight her battles for her, quite frankly, if she couldn’t stand up to Alastor, she’d never be fit to lead. You don’t take shit from other demons. He propped his cheek in his hand and relaxed back, watching the scene unfold. 

Valentino shifted in his seat, straightening his spine and cracking his neck. He was as much called out by this as Charlie was, but at least people expected him to be selfish. Charlie wasn’t supposed to be. 

“Of course I knew,” Charlie said evenly, sticking to her guns, “Not only would you have to be blind not to know, but Valentino confessed everything he’d done when he came to me. About the abuse, and then some.”

She wasn’t going to out Angel’s deal with Valentino, but it was clear to those who did know of its existence, so did she. Angel shoved away from the table and stood, not wanting to sit here and take another moment of this. Lucifer snapped his fingers and a pair of imps came and flanked Angel. Lucifer’s eyes met Angel’s, narrowed, intense, silently communicating to the spider that he was not allowed to leave just yet. 

“It was intentional. Maybe you want to call me naive, or selfish, or whatever, but I made this choice because at the end of the day, I am here to do one thing. One thing which none of you at this table actually give a shit about. Least of all you,” Charlie stood, planting her hands on the table with a firm slam, her eyes flashing red as she stared Alastor down, “All you care about is entertainment. Isn’t this entertaining for you? You fucking leech.”

“Charlotte, that’s enough,” Lucifer finally cut in, “I didn’t raise you to get into petty arguments. You are a royal, and you owe no one an explanation.”

Lucifer sneered across the table at Alastor, slowly, amusement poisoned what was meant to be an intimidating look, and it bordered on insulting. He sighed and pulled his napkin from his lap, tossing it on the table. 

“Though, I am curious,” his eyes found Charlie’s as she receded into her chair, looking like she wanted to disappear, “What was your reasoning for this?”

Charlie looked from her father, and then across the table at Angel, who was weak and shaking. 

“I can’t tell you that, it pertains to information I can’t just… expose,” Charlie said weakly. Angel swept his dishes off the table and let out a frustrated growl. 

“Can you all stop actin’ like I’m not even here while ya talk about this shit! Just spit it out, princess!”

His outburst of irritation quickly melted into a cold sense of dread. He could feel Lucifer’s heavy gaze on him, but he dared not look up. 

“Fine,” Charlie said, “I thought if I could get through to Valentino I could get him to let you out of your deal.”

What an absolute commotion! It seemed that Alastor had hit a goldmine when it came to laying out their qualms with one another. What started as perfectly tuned frustration turned into a wonderfully dramatic performance. Alastor had supposed the pressure was there all along, building day after day— all he had to do was apply the heat and watch it explode.

Charlie was right. He was pleased.

Red eyes focused and trailed behind Charlie’s sudden change in elevation and his eyebrows raised with it. Alastor’s smile turned from tight animosity to unadulterated delight. It thrilled him, specifically the name calling. He had gotten to her. The proof was in the low blow and in her sheer ungratefulness in everything he had done for her. Spoiled, naive, and idealistic brat. Alastor’s chuckle was akin to a wheeze, thick in amusement and colored by radio static. His only reply was a knowing raise of his eyebrows and gleeful glance down into his glass. Alastor didn’t deny it, in fact, it gave him fantastic amounts of pleasure. He took down the rest of his drink and set it down, letting himself relax to watch the drama unfold at the other end of the table.

He’d owe Angel a formal apology for finally calling out the elephant Moth in the room, but he knew it had to be done— sooner rather than later, until more damage had been done. Alastor didn’t plan on it being in front of Lucifer, but the situation had forced his hand by stoking his own anger. This felt, looked, sounded and tasted like revenge— and it was delicious.

Valentino radiated discomfort, so said the tight lines of his almost featureless face. He jumped at Angel’s outburst, looking as if he might will himself away. Alastor was eating it up, leaning comfortably on his elbow to keenly focus his interest down the tablecloth. Husk began leaning away in tandem, wanting nothing to do with Alastor’s creepily pointed fascination, bouncing back and forth between Angel and Charlie.

Charlie’s confession hit the air and Alastor had to press his knuckles over his bitten lips. He was eerily quiet, but he was desperately trying not to laugh out loud. Stupid, naive, idealistic— and add sap to that list as well. What a ridiculous notion! What an absolute idiot of a Princess! Alastor thought he was going to burst a blood vessel holding back the laugh he wanted to belt in her face. He pressed a fingertip to the corner of his eye that had been collecting a tear from holding back as much as he did.

Let out of a deal.

That was impossible.

He had explained to Angel perfectly just how to get out of or resolve he and Valentino’s deal and he still had refused him outright. What Charlie was suggesting was absolute bushwa. He knew it, Valentino knew it, and Lucifer knew it. Alastor cleared his throat and tried to exhale without a laugh.

It didn’t happen.

It began as a giggle that snuck out after a tight wheeze, high and thin until it ripped out of him with gail like force. Alastor was pushing the dial on discomfort and the air was heavy with it. He settled back down into unstable posturing and cleared his throat, still choking on a laugh or two before he attempted to interject.

“No—!!” which was high and broken, and abruptly bookended by a short lived giggle. He steeled himself and cleared himself once more and took a deep breath. “No, no, Charlie, that is— that is not how that works.” Alastor straightened himself and was glad to be done with his fit from earlier. He could think straight again.

“Of all the things you could have consulted with me on, didn’t you ever think that that one might have been something I may have been the leading authority on?” he proposed, leaning carefully on his elbows.

‘You may either fulfill it,

make a new one with a more powerful entity,

or you trick your way out of it.’ 

“You may deal up, deal out, or figure it out, my dear,” he offered, clasping his hands together. He felt at home educating the room, no matter how cryptic it sounded.

“But never let!”

Charlie fumed in her seat, cheeks redder than usual as she listened to Alastor laugh and condescend. Lucifer sighed heavily and rapped his fingers against the table. 

"You're full of hubris, aren't you," he said, low and soft. He pulled the attention of Charlie but she and everyone else watching quickly realized his statement was meant for Alastor. Angel was burning with shame and stood again, slower, more carefully. He shot Lucifer a dangerous look, his own face contorted, fangs a little longer, eyes a little darker. 

"I'm done here. Y'all can have this chat without me," he stated, though he didn't move. It was a request. Lucifer frowned at him and waved his hand dismissively. The imps backed away and allowed him to step away from his seat. Angel walked toward the door, lingering a moment in the opening to glance back at everyone there. 

"Thanks for nothin'... The lot of ya."

And with that, he departed, the click of his heels fading as he went. Charlie watched him go, her eyes a little misty. Lucifer grabbed her by her chin and forced her to look at him. There was a long moment of silence before he pecked her forehead. 

"I know what you thought, Charlotte… We'll discuss it later," he let her go and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. 

"May I be excused?" she whispered. Lucifer nodded and she took off like a dart out of the dining hall with Vaggie trailing behind her. Lucifer's gaze slowly trailed from Charlie's vacated seat toward Alastor. He smiled slowly and clicked his tongue in disapproval. 

"What a pity… At the very least, this has been illuminating," Lucifer practically purred. He picked up his glass and took a sip. 

"If anyone else would like to leave, now is your chance," he added. Valentino stood immediately, and Lucifer's head snapped toward him so quickly simply looking at it could give one whiplash. "Except you."

Valentino sat back down, shaking with nerves and the rest of the dinner guests began to clear out while the imps cleared the table. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *finger guns* here it comes! The tipping point!

Lucifer had been right, and how he hadn’t known it or realized up until this point, Alastor wasn’t sure. Hubris, narcissism, opportunist — all words that could have been used to describe Alastor in one way or another. He’d exposed Charlie and her ignorance and turned the fire onto Valentino. Underneath it all, there was a drive present to help Angel and make him see what had been going on underneath his nose all along. No one had taken the chance to be straightforward with him in the midst of being constantly subjected to his abuser.

Alastor’s hand had been indelicate due to provocation and his own thirst for drama, but he had hoped it would have set the record straight. Perhaps Lucifer would do the proper thing and turn the Moth into a smear on the wallpaper. Alastor wouldn’t hold out hope, but he certainly wished for it to be  _ painful _ .

He stood, nudging the chair behind him with the back of his knees. Cuffs were adjusted and his hair was smoothed down; Alastor was making a quick show of preening in front of Valentino. He cast an impish smirk in his direction and exhaled sharply— a laugh without a sound. The single shrug he gave him was heavy with giddiness and he began to slink away with a chipper tune being hummed out through his nose.

“ _ Tiptoe, through the window, _

_ By the window, that is where I’ll be, _

_ Come tiptoe through the tulips, with me.” _

Alastor’s smooth singing voice hit the Hotel halls heavily as he strode down them, filling the silent space with an air of righteous triumph. Although he was teeming with glee, the thought of Angel being hurt by all of this illumination nagged at him. He waffled in the hallway, about to continue up to his own floor until he decided against it. Lucifer was busy with Valentino. Alastor’s ear twitched towards the stairs, but he couldn’t seem to follow what good sense was encouraging him to do.

He stood at Angel’s door for the second time that day and rapped a fingernail on the door. It was eerily quiet and the sound of it would have easily carried inside. It was so quiet in fact, Alastor found himself slightly unsettled. If Angel was inside, Alastor wasn’t sure what he was up to. He hoped silently to himself that he wasn’t too upset with him. The Spider had gotten mad at him before for trying to help. This time when he had, he only did it because he knew he had to. No matter how strong Angel might have become, he was still powerless in the face of Valentino.

It took a bit for Angel to muster the courage to open the door but he did in a cloud of cigarette smoke. He wasn't relieved to see Alastor. He wasn't anything in particular. Having his precarious position and trauma paraded around at dinner had been bad. It was made worse by having Alastor at the forefront of it, reminding him yet again that he couldn't do anything about it without making things far more complicated for them both. Now he felt even more trapped than before, and everyone knew just what a shameful, hopeless mess he was. 

He'd been trying so hard not to be, clawing for something better. 

So he stared at Alastor, all the hurt plainly evident on his face. He was furious and in pain. He didn't want to keep the conversation going, and yet there Alastor stood. Angel didn't invite him in. He leaned in the doorway and took a long drag from his cigarette. 

"Feel good about what ya did down there, Al?" he was lashing out. How could he not? He felt betrayed by the entire display. By Charlie, by Alastor, it was all too overwhelming not to lash out. He was angrier with Charlie, and angriest of all at himself, but Alastor was an easy target. 

He lifted two hands to stop Alastor before he could properly answer. He was still shaking, cigarette wedged between his lips. 

"I swear… if you say anythin' at all before the words 'I'm sorry' I will shut this door right now. I'm allowed to be upset with you, no matta you're intent."

He wasn’t alarmed by Angel’s anger.

No, there was something far more troubling than being at the business end of his temper and sharpened fangs. Alastor was alarmed at how much Angel’s anger disarmed him. All sense of victory was neutralized and whatever enjoyment he had been stewing over seemed to evaporate in an instant. He stood there, mouth tight with constipated shock. In the rarest of rare displays, Alastor was knocked off his self-supplied pedestal and struck silent.

He came to realize in the short few moments he had stood on Angel’s doorstep that the Spider actually held some kind of power  _ over _ him. Alastor hadn’t ever bothered to become fully aware that their entanglement compromised him. It had just  _ happened. _ Is it why he felt this way— staring down the barrel of Angel’s indignation making him uncomfortable like this?

Alastor felt like it was his fault.

Nothing was ever his  _ fault _ — not directly, and certainly not like this!

Angel may not have known what he was looking at, but he was looking at Alastor dealing with humility and guilt for the first time in a long time. Alastor’s ears flattened and he swallowed raggedly, averting his eyes from Angel’s exasperated gaze. He tugged at the tie at his throat and pulled his shoulders towards his ears briefly as he did so. The expression on his face was akin to that of a child who had been freshly scolded for attempting to make breakfast but inevitably setting the kitchen ablaze.

He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came. Nothing sounded right, nothing was going to erase this moment and allow them to begin the night over. The damage was done.

It only left one thing.

What Angel had insisted upon.

Alastor’s eyes flirted with making contact, but the blazing fire behind Angel’s eyes felt too bright to look at. He cleared his throat and fidgeted against his trouser leg with anxious fingers. Was he dying again? It felt that way.

“I— I’m sorry, Angel, I didn’t mean to—,” Alastor would have much rather given Vox a commercial during a live broadcast than do this. He was desperate. Alastor couldn’t stand out in the hall much longer like this without arousing suspicion and he couldn’t very well walk away with Angel upset with him like this. A chance to explain was all he wanted.

“If you would find it in your heart to forgive me, I—” he added lowly, finding a comfortable spot to focus his eyes on— darting in between Angel’s shoulder and right eye. “I would deeply appreciate it.”

“I let my— my pride get the better of me, and… I-I’m sorry.”

"You're forgiven," Angel took Alastor by the wrist, and pulled him into his room. Watching Alastor struggle and his ears droop was not at all satisfying. It was difficult to stay mad at Alastor, but the lingering hurt simmered beneath the surface. Either way, he meant it when he gave his forgiveness, and he couldn't leave Alastor out in the hall for long. It was far too risky. Once they were safely inside he plucked his cigarette from his lips and sauntered over to the ashtray and snubbed it out. 

"I'm still upset… But it's not all on you. The Princess would be gettin' an earful if I could get away with it."

He sighed and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to keep himself from breaking down again entirely. Once was enough for one day. More than enough. Valentino's words from this morning were swimming around in his head still, and he desperately wanted them out. 

"I could handle havin' my dirty laundry aired if it was me doin' it. I know ya heart was in the right place, but… All a this makes me feel like a fuck up, Al. I made a bad deal, I did this to myself. Now I gotta be reminded of it every day an' I can't in good conscience do anythin' about it cause ya mean too damn much to me to fuck this up with a deal."

Angel turned and made his way into Alastor's space, wrapping around him and burying his face against his shoulder. He was a mess. He wanted to be anywhere else and high as a kite. He wanted to be numb, but that wasn't an option. He was clean and trying to stay that way. 

He let himself be tugged inside of Angel’s room and out of the cloud of remorse he had been marinating in. Alastor watched him flit around nervously while exhaustion weighed him down. There was something else happening beneath the surface, something that had happened earlier in the day— but Alastor thought better than to bring it up. Everything continued to pile on top of Angel, and he had unwittingly added more weight onto him with his display downstairs. With Angel wrapped around him, defeated and disclosing sighed secrets, he couldn’t find it in himself to keep rubbing salt in the wound. He’d let the question that burned inside him to go unasked. What Valentino had done that morning would have to be learned later.

The way Angel explained how he felt and how the repercussions of his own and Alastor’s actions worsened his state, it was no wonder he had felt such shame in how he acted. Considering all the care that had accumulated between them, the kind that Angel had openly admitted to, Alastor realized that his guilt hadn’t been unwarranted.

He’d learn to do better— he’d have to. He couldn’t stomach another bout of shame delivered at Angel’s doorway.

Hurting him was the last thing he ever wanted to do, but they were at an impasse.

“Angel, I— I’m fairly certain I understand what you’re saying, and I have come to care greatly for you, too— but it pains me to remind you that so long as your deal stands with Valentino,” he mentioned, backing away to take him by the shoulders and look up at him. Alastor straightened and swallowed evenly, letting his eyes drop from Angel’s momentarily.

“You will never be yours to truly give away,” Alastor reminded evenly, nearly melancholy. The sentiment Angel had uttered in their time together had been wonderful and truly beautiful to hear, but given their contract— he would never be able to have that kind of freedom to call himself Alastor’s. Not without severing the strings on him or adopting a new set.

“If you ever change your mind, you know you need only ask and I will do my best to be fair to you,” an offer he’d never made before. “Out of mutual respect, Angel, please don’t mention it again unless you intend to act on it. I will endeavor to do the same, because the thought of you  _ truly _ being mine—”

Alastor paused, trying to find the words to best illustrate what it now meant to him. It wasn’t something that came from manipulation anymore, or a way to get to Vox— it was something else entirely.

He wanted to set Angel free, to the best of his ability, and he wanted to do it because he lo—

“I don’t believe I’ll ever feel the warmth of heaven or ever come close to finding the release of redemption, but I imagine it would feel something like that.”

Angel nodded, his throat growing tight as shame washed over him anew. He would always in some part belong to Valentino. He hated that he couldn't give himself over entirely and be free to move through hell as he pleased. Valentino was a looming, dark cloud over him. Always present, always a threat. Something about this exchange of words made him feel selfish. What was he doing to Alastor? It wasn't fair to him.

And yet, as he looked at the other demon the very notion of trying to let him go filled him with dread. He couldn't. Not when he finally had some tiny sliver of happiness. Something that was his that no one else could touch. He pressed his hands against Alastor's where they rested on his shoulders and gave them a squeeze. 

"The feeling is mutual, Al. I don't think anything would make me happier than to--" 

There was a sharp knock on his door and Angel tensed from head to toe. He gritted his teeth and gave the door a scathing look. He was tired of this pattern of sneaking and interruption. He pressed a chaste kiss to Alastor's lips. 

"Just a second!" he called to the door. He looked back to Alastor and gave him an apologetic frown. 

"Meet me at that spot we went before? Later tonight… I wanna get outta here and spend some uninterrupted time with you," he whispered. 

His eyes were pleading with Alastor to say yes. 

Alastor’s attention snapped to the door with Angel’s. Ears up, eyes narrowed, mouth tight. The interruptions were getting exhausting. He was less concerned about his escape and who it was— all he wanted was a proper moment with Angel amidst all of the chaos. Alastor hadn’t even gotten the chance to properly consume and process Angel’s matched confession. He wanted to let it flood him with the little bit of hope it was capable of providing, but instead the rug was being wrenched out from underneath them again.

He nodded to Angel’s suggestion, knowing that their time was growing short. When Angel pulled away, Alastor went the other, but let his hand be the last point of contact as they went separate directions.

Whatever daring escape he was planning was going to be through the sizable vanity mirror he had enchanted in Angel’s room. A sharp snap and the surface of it glowed green. Through it, a large inky black tentacle reached through and yanked Alastor off of his feet. It wasn’t as graceful or as suave as his usual disappearing act, but it would serve its purpose to deposit him directly into his room.

Floors below would have heard the thud.

“You could have been a  _ little _ gentler, you know,” he griped sharply. Alastor despised being manhandled. He righted himself to his knees and then to standing inside his room. Brushing himself off, he exhaled roughly and sighed.

If they were going to steal a moment for themselves, Angel was right to suggest the place they had escaped to before. Alastor would don much of the same obscuring outfit from before. Glasses, woven turtleneck and suit jacket, hair tied back and away from his face. This time, though he hated it, he donned a flat driving cap that hid the height of his ears.

Sneaking around with Lucifer lurking felt even more dangerous, but they would be on the fringe of the city. The danger wasn’t mitigated, but it lessened the farther away they got from the Hotel.

Angel's guest was the exact demon they were looking to avoid, and what took place when he arrived was something Angel wasn't fully prepared to mentally process. He was relieved when he was able to finally escape a bit later. Sneaking away from the King of Hell came with a great deal of anxiety, but Angel needed it and he assumed Alastor felt the same. 

He dressed down in something a little less eye catching. A soft, petal pink chiffon dress, a string of pearls, and a cream cardigan. He retracted his spare set of arms to shrink his notable size and familiar shape. Carefully, curled hair framed his simply made up face. For all intents and purposes he passed as a housewife. He wore flats to disguise his steps as he slowly crept out of the hotel via the roof. Leaping from ledge to ledge was tiring but no great feat for him. 

Once on the ground floor and away from the hotel he caught a cab across town, unable to feel any real comfort until his eyes fell on Alastor. The thrill of sneaking out was gone, replaced with creeping anxiety, but it was well worth it to sit at a table, relatively unknown, over some drinks to watch the variety show. 

Some pretty little thing was crooning on stage when they arrived and Angel made his way to Alastor's arms outside, pressing a fleeting kiss to his cheek. 

"Ya have any trouble?" he asked softly as they stepped inside into the music and the moody smoke filled room. He didn't have to be specific for Alastor to know what he was asking. Angel didn't want to weigh down their escape with talk of the hotel, but he knew certain things would need to be addressed and it was safer here. They blended in with the night time crowd and were able to vanish into it, obscured by fancier fashion and louder guests. 

“Not in the slightest,” he replied, smiling widely once he saw Angel. Alastor grabbed his hand, excited to share this moment with him out in the open.

There was something strangely nostalgic about being in a place like this with Angel, dressed down and blending in. If they had been up above, would it have felt something like this? Clinging together amidst a talkative crowd, elbow to elbow and wading through several standing bodies to find a spot for them to share and hole up in. Alastor had come to enjoy the finer things in Hell amidst all of his propriety, but there was something grounding in this modest outing and he found it strangely intimate.

Though he wasn’t much bigger than Angel, Alastor cut the crowd with unspoken ease— a shoulder led and a tight focus on his face pushed their charge as he made his way over to the bar. There was one seat open, and instead of offering it to Angel, he had a different plan. Alastor sat, propping one heel up on a rung of the stool and one comfortably down on the floor. His legs were spread just far enough for him to put Angel against the inside of his propped leg, against his thigh. There wasn’t much space, but this kept Angel secure and against him; safe.

The bar was humming with conversation, so instead when the demon from behind the bartop approached, Alastor pointed to the drink menu first and then raised two fingers with a smile. As soon as it was possible, Alastor would find them a better place to retreat to, but for now this would do. 

Alastor turned his attention towards the stage for a moment and pressed his hand to the small of Angel’s back. He listened for a moment and let himself get settled against the bar, letting his eyes drift from the stage to Angel. Catching the moment where he wasn’t aware that he was looking at him were amongst his favorites. He leaned in.

“Angel, can I ask you something?” he said loud enough to cut over the cumulative conversation of the bar. “What exactly is going on with you and Lucifer? I believe there’s more to it than meets the eye.” Alastor was asking out of concern, not out of jealousy. He didn’t allow himself that luxury. It was a dangerous game they were playing at and indulging that kind of nastiness would have quickly caused him to spiral out of control. It was best to ignore it altogether.

Angel didn't often get to feel delicate and doted upon, but Alastor guiding him into a seat against his thigh made his heart swell and sing. It was hard to think about the unpleasantness of the day when they were crowded together like this. Drink and atmosphere. Intimacy and affection. He was as addicted to this as any substance he'd ever tried. Of course he should have known the question would come. He didn't know how to go about answering. 

The absolute truth was, he didn't know. 

"I don't know. At first I thought he just wanted an in at the hotel but today…"

He didn't want to make Alastor uneasy, but he'd made himself stop lying to Alastor, and he didn't intend to go back on that now. He wanted to be honest. Even if that meant discomfort. 

"Today something changed. After you stopped by, he got… Flirty? And when he visited me tonight he was bein' real familiar. Too familiar. I don't know what he's up to but I'm scared to turn him away. He could destroy us both," Angel spoke frankly, his concern reading plainly on his face. He sipped his drink and tried to make sense of their ever shifting reality. He exhaled a laughing sigh and shook his head. 

"He broke Valentino's hand… For touchin' me at dinner. If I didn't know any betta, I'd say he was tryin' to win my favor. And he wants to invest in the studio. I don't know what to think."

Alastor’s throat felt tight as he exhaled through it. Angel wouldn’t hear the strained sigh that escaped, but he would feel the displeasure rolling off of him in waves. Lucifer was up to something. Alastor was certain of it from the beginning, but everything Angel had said had only served to confirm it. His mouth begged to betray him, yet he wouldn’t permit it to happen another time in a single evening. The grimace on Angel’s doorstep was still fresh in his mind. Instead, Alastor’s grin was tight—  _ forced _ . He sipped his drink and marinated over the difficult to navigate situation that was quickly developing between Angel and Lucifer.

Angel was right, however. Denying Lucifer was a bold move and he had known it from his own first hand experience. Alastor had figured out his own angle in dealing with the King, which was to be aloof and tone deaf to his advances, but Angel didn’t have that luxury— not with  _ his _ reputation.

“If you’re going to think anything, Angel, don’t let it be that you’re wrong about any of this,” he warned, glancing down into his drink. Alastor swirled it idly and let his eyebrows fall into a furrow. He wanted to protect Angel, to shield him from the danger of being entangled with Lucifer and the games he often liked to play.

There was no board and no deck— just people, the only pawns that were ever worth playing with.

Alastor finished the golden liquor sitting in the bottom of his glass and set it on the bar. He was done with the unpleasant conversation as much as he was with his drink. Tonight was theirs. It was best to act like it. Lucifer had owned far too much of their time and their thoughts recently and some sort of quota had to have been met.

_ Enough _ .

“Would you dance with me again tonight?” he asked, letting his hand sit more comfortably and lower on Angel’s hip. A little brazen and suggestive, but in the kind of crowd they were in it didn’t seem that out of place. Alastor of course had meant if the music was right, lively and energetic. He recalled the last time they had and what a wonderful time it was.

He wished for simpler times, and he often loved to return to them.

“Do you remember the time we had in the Lobby?” Alastor asked sweetly, looking up to Angel over the thin rim of glasses and under the flat brim of his hat. He was wearing the smirk that begged to be kissed off his mouth by the only person in the underworld that meant anything to the Radio Demon. Behind it was the type of sweet and easy heat that settled into the muggy nights of New Orleans. 

“I don’t think I’ve  _ ever _ met anyone who can Fox Trot better than  _ I _ can.” 

Angel did his best to shift along with the mood while taking Alastor's words to heart. If his gut instinct was right, he wasn't looking forward to where all of this business with Lucifer was going, but he could put all his future worries on the back burner for the sake of the night. They were together. They were away from the hotel. That's what really mattered. 

He smiled, nudging his nose against Alastor's cheek as a laugh bubbled up in his chest. If there was one thing he was truly confident about it was his rhythm. Dancing came naturally. He'd never pass up an opportunity to do so, especially not with Alastor. The deer could actually keep up with him. 

"Of course I'll dance with you. Your footwork is maybe my third favorite thing about you," he winked, smiled wide, and sank into the moment. 

"How could I forget? That dance was the best of the night. Seems like forever ago, now," he looped an arm around Alastor's shoulders and pressed in against him, placing a delicate hand against his chest. 

"If the moment's right, I'll gladly let you sweep me off my feet again."

His gaze was affectionate, full of adoration. What Alastor was beyond their dynamic should have terrified him. He'd seen the carnage Alastor was capable of, seen first hand how he terrified those around him, but he didn't flinch away. No one was so one dimensional that they could only be judged by the violence they were capable of. The hand at his hip may have ripped people apart, the mouth that kissed him so sweetly may have consumed the flesh of other sinners, the eyes he'd grown so fond of may have gazed upon unimaginable horrors of their own making, but… 

Angel saw the important thing lurking beneath all of that. 

A man. 

As he looked at Alastor in the low light and one tune bled into the next, Angel's breath caught in his throat. Words tumbled from his lips before he could think better of them. 

"You're beautiful, ya know that?" 

“ _ Third? _ Now you’ve made me curious about the first two!” he interjected with a lighthearted smile, comfortable in the way it cut in. He made jokes that weren’t for an audience, just ones that might have made Angel smile. It was the only attention he truly cared to have despite the room full of people. Alastor was a natural at having eyes on him, but if they weren’t Angel’s pair of mismatched pink— he wasn’t interested tonight.

Another telling change for the Radio Demon.

Angel’s next observation took Alastor by surprise. Thankful for the dim lighting and the height of his collar, he could feel heat raise to the surface of his skin. Those were words never uttered to him before, or ones that he couldn’t recall. Terrifying, dubious, scheming— those were words he often heard, and never directly to his face. His smile drew closed and he averted his eyes, casually licking his lips in a show of coy embarrassment. Alastor wanted to ask Angel if he was certain or if he felt well— he couldn’t have really meant it, could he?

“I’m not sure I know what you mean, Angel,” which sounded a little more bashful than it should have. Did he mean physically? Something else? Alastor was used to deflecting these kinds of advances and compliments,  _ not _ accepting them.

“I hardly think I could pull off a dress as well as  _ you _ can,” he explained with a short lived laugh. Angel was wondrously beautiful, of that he was completely certain— himself, he thought less so. Alastor was fully aware of just how ugly he could be.

Angel took Alastor gently in hand, palm pressed against his cheek to bring him back to eye contact. Deflection of compliments was a trait he'd seen in many people before and Angel didn't give them out lightly. He hadn't expected Alastor to be so shy about it, but now he'd laid out what felt like a challenge. He could never make Alastor see him the way he did, but now he was tempted to try. He took a deep breath and made steady eye contact. The song was just low and slow enough that he knew he'd be heard clearly. 

"But we're not talkin' about me. I mean don't get me wrong, I agree, you couldn't pull off a dress but the way I see it, that's because a dress could never suit or contain what makes you beautiful to me," Angel pressed in closer, speaking low and close to Alastor's ear. 

"You're like the ocean, Al? Ya remember the ocean? Beautiful and changeable. I get swept away in it an' drift on the waves. The shifting colors, reflect everything around it. On the surface it's a sight, powerful an' full of life. With deep depths, full'a wonderful things to discova' an' see. Sure, there's danger, but that danger only adds ta the beauty. Somethin' so amazing an' complex is worth divin' into. There's a whole universe in there. The beauty of you goes beyond the surface. The more I dive, the more I see. I'm head over heels in your depths."

Angel nuzzled against Alastor and allowed his words time to sink in as the song played on. His fingers slowly drifted down the side of Alastor's face to rest where his neck and shoulder met. He pulled back to make eye contact again, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. 

"So when I tell ya you're beautiful, know that I mean all of ya. An' lemme just admire ya a little, okay?" 

Alastor didn’t know how to take in all of Angel’s adoration. Each syllable was chained so beautifully to another and the picture it painted sounded so breathtaking and magnificent that he could scarcely breathe. To be seen like that by someone else, and Angel no less, Alastor didn’t know what to do when his heart fluttered in his chest and his throat tightened. He felt the same about Angel and just as strongly, but his mind couldn’t supply him with the right words to properly convey the flood of emotions he felt. He was being swallowed up by his own ocean, so it seemed.

“ _ Ánj _ ,  _ mwen renmen ou anpil _ .” The words fell out of his mouth so quickly and so intimately that he nearly gave himself a start. It was a sentiment that he had only ever shared with his Mother, and not even in this kind of fashion— not anywhere close.

His eyes widened at himself and his mouth pulled tight, suddenly very relieved that Angel didn’t understand Creole in any capacity that he was aware of. 

“You’re awfully poetic for the vocation you fell into, Angel,” which was an attempt at steamrolling over what he had uttered before. If Angel asked him about it, he’d deflect— make something up. 

“It’s still an awfully nice sentiment, however. Thank you,” he replied, giving Angel a sweet smile. His eyebrows perked up and he noticed in the distance a table close to the stage.

“Would you like to sit,  _ cher _ , or shall we stay here so I can keep admiring you like this,” Alastor hummed, making sure to keep his hands familiar on Angel.

Angel felt as though this conversation was a victory. Alastor seemed to take his words to heart so he didn't press, even if curiosity was eating at him. Whatever Alastor had confessed was lost in the linguistic barrier. He was more than happy to let it go for now. He slipped off Alastor's lap and took him by the hand to steal the newly available table. 

Angel scooted his chair close to a Alastor's own so he could lace their fingers together in the tabletop more easily. A comment as nagging at his tongue, brought to the forefront of his mind at the mention of his vocation. He didn't know why he felt the need to share it, but Alastor just had that effect on him. 

"I wanted to be an actor. Family business kinda came first, but that's what I really wanted," Angel confessed. He tucked his cheek toward his shoulder, staring intently at the table rather than Alastor. It was embarrassing in its own way to admit that he'd wanted something more and failed at it. Still, it was a glimpse into himself he was willing to give Alastor. 

The song playing came to a close and the act left the stage. Curtains drew to re-set for the next act and softer music played through the speaker system. It was more suited to the chatter going on through the venue. 

"If I'm bein' honest I used to sit up late and listen to the radio shows as a kid. Hearin' all those dramatic stories and fantastic tales… Who wouldn't wanna do something like that? That's what started it. Then I saw my first picture and I was sold."

“Did you?” he asked, tickled by the fact that Angel cared for such kinds of entertainment. He was pleasantly surprised and gripped his hand a little tighter. He was always interested in what Angel had to say, but this glimpse inside captivated him. Alastor liked knowing things about his Spider, the more personal the better. The connection he felt was sublime and he was certain that he hadn’t felt anything like it before.

“I bet you would have been marvelous! Lit up on the silver screen like some kind of moving picture star!” Alastor offered, vying for eye contact with the table. He selfishly wanted Angel’s attention and in this stolen moment, he could have it as openly as he wanted. “In all fairness, you  _ are  _ marvelous, but you are definitely wrong about one thing, my dear.”

“You  _ are _ an actor, the purest kind, in fact. You make people believe, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you are giving them a piece of yourself every time you’re on screen. Though I may not have an affinity for your previous line of work, Angel, you are  _ good _ . Acting is the highest form of manipulation and you are quite masterful at it.”

“I believe you might have  _ some _ distance left to go seeing that you don’t wield the power you have over people as ruthlessly as your potential would surely allow, then again, I’ve never been known to have a delicate hand myself,” he reached up and turned Angel’s face towards him as he leaned in. He sank into his space and tucked himself against Angel’s ear, letting the low end of his tenor curl around the most telling revelation in the point Alastor was trying to make.

“Need I remind you,” he began, pressing his lips just behind the ridge of Angel’s ear. “You’re tricking the  _ devil _ , darling.”

“And you’ve made not only one of the most powerful Overlord’s in Hell fall in love with you, but you’ve seem to have done it without him even realizing it.” 

Until now.

Angel felt a mix of pride and anxiousness. Alastor told him all the things he'd always wanted to hear. It was almost too good to be true. That anyone could see him as accomplished, see him as skilled at something other than sex, was nothing short of miraculous to him. He always saw it as just doing what came naturally to get by in life. When he was alive, lying was his life. Acting was part of that. It served him well down here in hell. 

He'd accomplished more than he ever thought possible and hearing it laid out so plainly forced him to confront that realization. He was an actor. Maybe not how he ever thought he would be but he was. But that last tidbit. That caught Angel off guard. 

Love? 

His head snapped up from the table and he looked at Alastor, wide eyed and confused. 

"What?" 

The lights on stage came on with a loud click and the curtains drew back. A hush fell over the crowd as the sound of shoes and a cane clicked on stage. Then venue filled with gasps and Angel's gaze tore away toward the next performer. Except it wasn't just any performer. There, on stage, setting his cane lightly against a stool with a violin in hand, was the last person Angel wanted to see on the heels of Alastor's confession. 

**_Lucifer Magne_ ** .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) yay?


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome back to literal hell. We're sorry. (Kind of.) :) :) :)

All Alastor could do in the face of Angel’s sudden shock was smile— earnest but sweet. He was all warmth, radiating sincerity and care, a touch of awe. How Angel had pulled him out of the dank armor of his shell to blossom into a fully realized person— he couldn’t imagine the kind of adept capability that took. This wasn’t infatuation. It had grown so slowly and built over time, requiring all of Angel’s patience and care. Despite the arduous slog through pulling down the Radio Demon’s walls, he had finally reached the center and the reward was this— Alastor, and it was  _ all  _ of him.

He wanted to continue their conversation but the sound of the next act taking the stage pulled his attention away with blaring light, drawn curtains, and the beat of heeled footsteps closing in to fill the void at the center of the stage. Alastor’s eyes began at the shine of black boots and drew up the length of two finely dressed legs in  _ white _ .

Lucifer grinned down at their table as if he'd just laid down a royal flush against their two of a kind. Bow poised, violin tucked against his shoulder, Lucifer began to play. It was a sly, violin lead in for Minnie the Moocher and as he played, materializing out of smoke and cinders were imps with a horn section, a bass, the whole band, slowly came into view. Lucifer stepped up to the mic and broke from his violin to sing. 

_ "Folks, here's a story 'bout Minnie the Moocher. She was a red-hot hoochie-coocher. She was the roughest, toughest frail. But Minnie had a heart as big as a whale--"  _

As he did so, something came over the crowd. They were growing lulled and drunk on his music. Angel felt it sinking into his senses. He squeezed tighter at Alastor's hand. This was bad. 

The call and response was unavoidable. The crowd began to sing after him, bidden by his magic. 

"Hi-dee hi-dee hi-dee hi" 

_ hi-dee hi-dee hi-dee hi _

"Whoa-a-a-a-ah" 

_ whoa-a-a-a-ah _

"Hee-dee-hee-dee-hee-dee-hee" 

_ hee-dee-hee-dee-hee-dee-hee _

"He-e-e-e-e-e-e-y" 

_ he-e-e-e-e-e-e-y _

Angel's throat felt raw as he fought the urge to sing along. He looked at Alastor, silently pleading.  _ What do we do? _

Alastor’s eyebrows fell and the rest of his face followed in kind once he knew he had made eye contact with the morning star, shining brightly and dripping in sadistic pleasure.

His teeth clicked with how quickly Alastor shut his gaping mouth and replaced it with a tightly painted grin. Alastor’s hand tightened in kind with Angel’s as his shoulders drew rigid and tight. Caught— inexplicably and completely; he was paralyzed with panic. His mind didn’t supply him with much until the music began and Lucifer’s spell wound tightly around their dwindling willpower. Giving in would be an added victory and Alastor wasn’t about to give it up so easily. They’d inevitably find themselves cracking and following in kind if they didn’t entertain the voice that enchanted the room in one way shape or form.

It was best to find some enjoyment in what Alastor could have only assumed was the last of last moments for them both.

They were already caught. They might as well dance on the ashes of what  _ was—  _ because it certainly wasn’t going to  _ be  _ any more; not with what they had  _ done  _ and not with  _ who  _ they had done it to.

Alastor pulled off his glasses and tossed them on the table with a sharp sigh and supplied a tight pinch to the bridge of his nose. The removal of his hat and the addition of his jacket came next. His ears stood up at full, proud attention and his height followed in kind in between lines of the verse.

“Angel, I believe that dance may be sooner rather than later,” and he already had Angel by the hand, nodding towards the worn wooden dance floor that sat in front of the stage.

“May I have this last one with you?”

Angel hesitated. He didn't want this to be goodbye. Not when they'd come this far. He held back for a moment, one lingering moment, and then joined Alastor on the dance floor. He came in close and pressed his lips to Alastor's cheek, whispering to him. 

"It's never been actin' with you. You deserve to know," he confessed as they fell into a rhythm. He spun away and spun back, desperately clinging to this moment. To Alastor. 

"You're not the only one in love."

He dipped and swayed with the music as Lucifer performed, breaking up lyrics with violent riffs on his violin. It felt like a crescendo, everything was peaking, coming to a head. The crowd around them swelled in song, dancing around them in a flood of bodies. Everything moved in a blur of color and sound and then finally the song came to a close and he was nose to nose with Alastor. He looked him in the eyes, his own growing misty. 

"I love you."

Each seductive warble of horn and salacious beat put Alastor’s feet to work in leading Angel around the dancefloor. His hands held onto and led Angel with a certainty that grounded him in the face of looming danger. It allowed him to pour himself into a display of malicious compliance as he turned Angel into his arms and held him from behind. The provocative throb of Lucifer’s song was mirrored in each twist and dip of their dissolving reality.

Alastor never hesitated in offering brief glimpses up at the stage, afraid that if he looked away for too long that Lucifer very well may make it all disappear in an instant. It was a challenge in the way Alastor never backed his attention down or appeared to feel shame or guilt in their sudden exposure. Each verse and chorus was a careful balance, focusing on Angel and Lucifer while enjoying the death rattle of their shared secrecy. 

“I know,  _ cher,  _ I  _ know.  _ I love—” the words were still fresh and still so overwhelming for him to say. “I love you,” he replied quietly once the song and crowd dissipated. Lucifer be damned, Alastor kissed the last few dance exhausted breaths out of Angel with both of his hands cradling the sides of his face. His forehead was pressed to Angel’s as he heard Lucifer cluck over the crowd and approach. Alastor’s wince was tight and frozen on his face. He held his breath, expecting to be struck down at any given moment. The guillotine was hanging above both of their heads and lurching closer with every footfall of those patent leather boots.

The spell of the song was broken and Lucifer's imps dissipated. The other venue goers left the dance floor until the only ones left were Angel and Alastor. Lucifer gave a bow to the applause and thanked everyone. Slowly, he grabbed his cane and stepped down from the stage to the dance floor. 

"Anthony! Alastor! Fancy seeing you here! Did you know I'd be performing tonight? My wife is the true performer of the family, but I like to stretch my skills now and then!" 

He was beaming, overly friendly, razor teeth grit in a dangerous smile. 

"Sit! Sit! Let's have a drink!" 

Angel clung to Alastor, nails digging in, fear gripping him like a vice. Whatever was coming, he wasn't ready for it. But there was comfort in facing it together.

Alastor held onto his hand and put himself in between Lucifer and Angel as he approached, keeping him partially obscured from view and protected. His fingers tightened around Angel’s while he turned his attention completely onto those glazed over eyes and plastic smile.

“It was quite the rousing performance, if I do say so myself,” Alastor replied, suspicious but presented in his usually friendly and energetic candor. He nodded to Lucifer’s suggestion, turning his attention back to Angel with eye contact that suggested to follow along with this dangerous indulgence. Their table wasn’t far away being so close to the stage and he gestured to it, beginning to lead the way.

Angel followed along, allowing Alastor to guide him back and push his chair in for him. Despite the danger, they didn't skip a beat. There was no point in holding back now that they'd been exposed. Angel held onto the tiniest sliver of hope that perhaps between the two of them they could find a way out of this. He had one card he could play, and he hoped that it wouldn't come to that, but if it meant keeping Alastor safe… 

Lucifer took up residence with them at their table, leaning back in his chair with one arm casually slung over the back of it. He was sizing them up with that unnerving gaze and it made Angel's skin crawl. He smiled despite how much he didn't want to and followed Alastor's lead. Nothing was wrong. 

"A real pleasant surprise, ya majesty. I've been a frequent patron here for a long time, seen all the regular acts… So that was refreshing," Angel put on the charm, but not too thick. Alastor's words rang out in his ears. You're an actor, so act. 

Lucifer pressed a hand to his own cheek and looked away, making a mockery of looking bashful. 

"You're too kind! Please! Enough about me…  _ What brings you two here? _ " 

Lucifer lifted a hand and flagged down the nearest waitress who sheepishly skittered closer. Lucifer turned his gleaming grin on her and tapped a finger on his chin. 

"Appletini for myself, a Sazerac for the gentleman, aaaaand… what was it?" he snapped as he tried to recall, looking at Angel who stared back, wide eyed, "Ah! I remember. Gin martini for the lovely little thing in the dress, if you please!" 

Lucifer watched the waitress nod and dash off to fill the order. The staff were just as surprised as anyone else by the arrival of the King. 

Alastor laughed, rehearsed and pleasant after nodding to the waitress in affirmation. Lucifer had them pinned, in more ways than one. He knew that if there was any hope of playing this off they would both have to be incredibly clever. They had been up until this point and had gotten this far; now, even though they had been caught out, it shouldn’t have changed anything. Angel would have to take on the toughest act of his career and Alastor would have to twist the truth into shapes he hadn’t even begun to imagine yet.

This would be terribly tricky, but they had done it before— never together, but their combined efforts should have given them some kind of edge against Lucifer.

“I figured after all of the unpleasantness we had during dinner that a night out was just what the Doctor ordered! Unfortunately, the gin mill that I typically frequent was hit particularly hard after the last cleanse,” he explained, happy to settle into something resembling comfortable conversation.

“I’ve been to livelier graveyards!” Alastor laughed, pleased with his own attempt at levity. He let the chuckle fade and considered adding a hint of truth to their perceived interrogation. The waitress came back with their drinks and he was quick to snatch his up and take a much needed swig.

“I simply wanted to make it up to Angel after how much of a scene I caused. I believe you of all people should know the old adage, ‘The road to Hell is paved with—,’” he added, gesturing mildly in front of himself with his drink in his hand. The grip on Angel’s fingers tightened. He didn’t like gambling with this much on the table, but Alastor had done it anyway.

Angel sipped his drink, casting a sidelong glance at Alastor as he spoke. He schooled his features into something amused and mildly put out. He rolled his eyes and Alastor's joke and smiled. Played along. Nerves would be his undoing so he soothes them with a sip of his drink. This should come easy, he told himself. He'd snatched Vox. That was no small feat. Maybe he could do this too. They'd have to work together on the fly. 

Lies went down better with a dose of truth. 

"I'll neva' say no to a night out. The hotel can be… what's the word I'm lookin' for," Angel leaned back in his seat and pressed his knuckle to his chin, eyes drifting toward the ceiling. He snapped back a moment later, grinning, " _ Depressing _ ."

Lucifer laughed and took a sip of his own drink. His fingers tapped idly against the stem of his glass as he set it back on the table. His gaze oscillated between the two sinners before him. 

"Very understandable. And I suppose all that affection was simply you two getting caught up in the oh so romantic atmosphere," Lucifer mused, glancing around at the venue briefly. The sarcasm was not lost on Angel. This was the tricky bit. Angel puffed out his chest a bit and met Lucifer's gaze, his lips curled and his eyelids fell half mast. He looked at him through thick lashes and shrugged. 

"I quit the porn biz, baby. An' Al's easy on the eyes. A girl's gotta get laid sometime," Angel purred. He was flirting, subtly, and it made him sick to his stomach to do it in front of Alastor. 

Lucifer looked at Alastor and raised a questioning brow in his direction. 

How did normal people go about this?

Alastor was taken off guard by Angel’s bold suggestion. His attention pivoted smoothly over to Angel, but very directly. He wasn’t just playing along, he was moving the dial. If they were going to sell it, they were  _ really _ going to have to sell it. Alastor barely knew how to respond in the first place— when it came to faking it, he didn’t have much personal experience to go off of.

It was a good thing that he had been quick on his feet tonight because his mind was going to follow closely behind.

“Apparently, I’m only good for two things tonight! Dancing, and, eh—,” each short lived laugh that came afterward was a little more pointed than the last. Awkward— deflecting.  _ Typical _ . Alastor thought about it for longer, drifting from Angel to Lucifer and then back to Angel.

_ Hold your horses. _

“Perhaps you should have considered whether or not I do that kind of thing in the first place! A kiss is one thing, Angel, but I’ve seen the things you get up to!” he supplied, easing back into the veneer of his usually distant and aloof facade. It was more believable that way, at least when it came to  _ this _ subject.

He could sell this better than pretending to be suave and acting like they  _ hadn’t _ been caught out and it  _ shouldn’t _ have been a brazen act of defiance while they lied and manipulated their way out of Lucifer’s attention.

“Downright unsanitary!” Alastor chirped, giving Angel a look he hadn’t bothered to give him in weeks— months. Playful disgust.

Lucifer giggled at Alastor's display and Angel huffed, rolling his eyes at the rejection. He folded his arms and pouted, fixing Alastor with a look of disdain. Whether or not Lucifer was buying it was yet to be seen. He'd keep going so long as the moment called for it, but even when playing a part, seeing Alastor look at him in a way that had become wholly unfamiliar set him on edge. 

"I'm perfectly clean. But it's your loss, Smiles. I woulda treated ya real nice," Angel edged toward unaffected, moving through the moment as if unphased because that's how he'd always done it. He glanced around and grinned, slowly uncrossing his arms. 

"Guess I'll have to charm someone else. Oh well…" 

The laugh that oozed from Lucifer like oil set his teeth on edge. Angel's eye fell back to the King. He could hide how unsettled he was by it, but Lucifer's hand snaked across the table and caught one of Angel's own. His focus was wholly on Angel. 

"Why not turn your charm this way? I've been curious to see just what that's like."

Angel's eyes widened and he tensed from head to toe. Is this what things were really coming to? He couldn't look Alastor's way to apologize. Angel smiled and laced his finger with Lucifer's, gold tooth catching in the low light as he smiled, batting his eyelashes Lucifer's way. 

"Oh? I've never fucked royalty before. What would the missus think?" Angel purred and Lucifer cast a sidelong glance at Alastor, making pointed eye contact for the briefest of moments. 

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her," came his low reply. 

Alastor had never known jealousy— not like this. Vying for power was one thing, coveting positions of opportunity and attention were another, but he had never known the kind that began to well up inside him when he watched the scene before him begin to unfold. This was a kind of jealousy that he had zero experience in schooling or holding close to his chest. It made physical tells harder to manage and they came to the forefront without any hindrance or consideration from Alastor.

When Lucifer’s eyes fell on him his grin was tight, nearly a line— his eyebrows were set above wide eyes and pressed firmly towards one another in a constipated furrow.

He  _ hated _ this feeling and it could have been read plain as could be right off of his face. It made Alastor’s stomach feel sour and tight all at once. The grip on his glass became tight and once Lucifer suggested infidelity, the rest of Alastor’s unrestricted responses came.

His ears perked up, tight and tense, and vibrated, like a cat’s while stretching from after a lazy midday nap. It happened quickly, easily overlooked by the naked eye if one hadn’t been dialed into watching. Alastor’s right ear flicked, unhappy with the unknown sensation of shorting out and losing control of itself. He played it off, reaching up to smooth down the offending appendage like it had been bothering him. Alastor’s face didn’t betray him, legitimate or feigned.

It was fortunate that both angles could work for him given the situation.

“I’m sitting right here,  _ you know _ ,” Alastor reminded, averting his eyes to shield himself from the display between them. He knew it was a farce, but something inside him made him react foolishly and feel threatened regardless. Ridiculous and inconvenient, but he’d have to twist it into something believable within the moment.

“Need I remind you that Angel Dust is your daughter's  _ first _ Hotel resident and  _ the _ shining example of her message of redemption actually being legitimate,” he added calmly, adding reason like a counterweight.

“Or do you feel the same way about  _ that _ ,” Alastor questioned, incredibly pleased with himself at just how clever that leverage was. That would have been low for many people’s standards, even in Hell. Fucking your Daughter’s passion project and business venture was gauche.

“My dear, I don’t think I can guarantee her ignorance forever, can you?” he asked Lucifer, the glass in his hand ready to spider and break at a moment’s notice.

It was as close as he could get to telling Lucifer to—

_ Back  _ **_the fuck_ ** _ off _ .

Angel could feel the discomfort radiating off of Alastor but didn't have the luxury of trying to ease it. As he spoke, while Lucifer's focus drifted away from Angel, the Spider carefully, gently, eased one foot closer beneath the table. He didn't want to startle either, but he had to make contact. He nudged Alastor ever so lightly, their knees brushing from the close proximity their chairs had already been at. 

"Such concern, Alastor. Aren't you only in it for the amusement?" Lucifer was challenging Alastor's reasoning against the decision. Angel tried to stay cool and unaffected by the back and forth and offer what secret comfort he could. Lucifer's hand slowly withdrew from Angel's own and he leaned back in his chair again. 

"You know what I think? I think my wife has her own affairs and doesn't pry. I think Angel has endured plenty of unpleasantness for my daughter's sake and if she found out, I'd simply tell her the same thing I always have about sinners and redemption. Maybe it'd knock some sense into her, and besides all that--"

Lucifer snapped his fingers and Angel let out a startled squeak as he vanished from his place, chair and all, only to reappear almost instantly on the other side of the table, nice and close to Lucifer. He swayed uneasily in his seat and Lucifer's arm wrapped around his shoulders to steady him. 

"Even if it's not to your liking. You enjoyed his company this evening. You even kissed him  _ so tenderly.  _ You should understand the temptation. The fact that you don't see fit to take it further is your own choice, and this? This one's mine."

As the word ' _ mine _ ' slipped from his lips his free hand found its way up under Angel's jaw, cupping his face quite delicately. As much as it made him sick to his stomach Angel had to smile. Had to lean into it. Lucifer's word choice was deliberate and sharp. He was twisting the knife. A warning bell rang in the back of Angel's head that he couldn't pay attention to. For the sake of both their lives.

Alastor had never had to imagine the lengths he would go to in order to protect someone other than himself. There had been times where he had defended a sinner who was on the receiving end of a stronger demon’s downward punch, but this scenario and its entirety hit far too close to home. This was  _ different _ . Angel wasn’t helpless, that was something he had proven true time and time again, but in the face of a threat as deadly as Lucifer, the Spider was helpless to the weight of a finely polished patent leather boot. It didn’t matter how resilient he may have been, he would either be crushed or consumed by the whims of the King.

The way Lucifer’s words took apart his argument only served to fit his own narrative and further instigate the presence of freshly born jealousy. Alastor watched from across the table, fists clenched tight and danger hanging off the corners of a very strained grin. More often than not, Alastor loved a challenge, but this was more than that— an insult, and one that Lucifer hadn’t come to realize that he was making. He had to endure it, all because they had been clever enough to deny and withhold the real truth behind their affair.

Watching Lucifer touch Angel set his jaw tight, clenching hard and flexing under the escaping strain of holding back. His breath came out even and heavy through his nose, nearly smoke with how provoked the Radio Demon had become. His left hand had become clenched around the edge of the table, knuckles tight and bulging.

He had a choice to make; either give into this provocation or continue down the path they were carefully traipsing.

“Need I remind you, Lucifer, that the only thing here that’s  _ yours  _ is that hand you so audaciously keep putting on Anthony— and if you would like to keep it, I suggest you remove it,” Alastor’s pitch kept sinking with every word, and menace began dripping freely from a dangerous rack of horns that Hell had never seen the likes of before— not even when he had begun climbing the ranks of the Underworld in his sudden and violent take over. The air hummed with static and his visage began to warp, bend, and darken. 

Alastor didn’t have to outright admit anything, it was clear as day in his actions— Angel was his to protect and keep, not Lucifer’s.

_ His _ .

Lucifer's hand on Angel's chin turned aggressive in an instant, sharp tips digging into soft features. His eyes flashed dangerously in the low light. Angel tried to pull his face away but was rooted to the spot. Angel's eyes fell on Alastor. Lucifer hadn't been fooled, Angel was certain of that now. They were bold for trying to believe they could pull that off, and maybe it bought them a few extra moments in one another's company. 

"There it is," Lucifer hissed through clenched fangs and a wicked smile. "I had my suspicions… And you confirmed them with such little pressure. I'm surprised at you Alastor. The only thing here that's  _ yours  _ is your shameful weakness for a whore."

Lucifer laughed as he released Angel from his grasp and leaned forward across the table, smoldering with his victory. 

"Anthony works for me, darling. And works well. After all these years who knew a pretty face was what it took to get under your skin. I think a little bonus pay is in order."

Angel's brows drew tight in confusion. Lucifer was twisting the truth to try and sow seeds of doubt and hurt Alastor. He only hoped that Alastor wouldn't be swayed and convinced so easily that Angel had lead him to believe there was something between them when there wasn't. 

_ It was never an act with you.  _

Alastor had to believe that. Angel couldn't speak up in protest. Fear of making this worse made his voice die in his throat.

The field was finally level thanks to his inability to subdue his own jealousy. Although the sudden shift was dangerous for both of their well-beings, at least there wasn’t the added inconvenience of always trying to manipulate and twist words into easily digestible lies. It was freeing in its own way. Alastor operated better when he could let his cunning and actions run their course without hindrance, and now, he would have to be incredibly adept at both and truly put his abilities to the test.

Time slowed, hanging dangerously in the air around them as one fluid motion simultaneously put him on his feet and set the table skittering across the floor. To Alastor’s strength, it had weighed nothing and removing it put Lucifer well within arms reach. Inky black fingers closed around his throat and pushed him back onto the two black legs of his chair and Alastor held him there, keeping him from falling backwards by his neck.

The venue was eerily silent and every eye was directed in shock at the commotion happening near stage left. The Radio Demon clutching the King of Hell by the throat, teetering him on the edge of tipping over and onto the floor. Alastor had been bold before but never this insolent, and in his mind, Lucifer deserved it.

Calling him weak for loving Angel was one thing, simplifying Angel down to a single word meant to insult was another— and it was entirely a step too far.

“And just who do you think suggested you learn about my proposed scheming?” he confessed brightly with a venomous smile. That’s right, it was  _ he _ who had suggested it; to draw Lucifer out and test him, all for his own entertainment. No matter the seeds of doubt Lucifer attempted to plant, Alastor knew exactly where Angel’s loyalty lied. He had earned his trust ten fold, solidified it in the sacrifices he had made in order to get back into his good graces and adhere to a strict diet of truth from there on out.

“Do I need to remind you and everyone else in this room that you only  _ rule  _ this pit, my dear? And rulers, well, they can very well change, can they not?” he asked, laughing lightly through the crackle of a radio that carried his voice unnaturally far. Lucifer may have been special in that he was the first, but it didn’t afford him much of anything else in Alastor’s book. He sighed deeply with an air of relieved pleasure, feeling a sliver of victory in the doubt he had sewn in the room.

“I believe that means you don’t own it or anything else that suffers down here in this realm. In fact, you were only sent here because She was tired of your arrogance and incessant defiance, were you not?”

Alastor’s fingers tightened and he leaned in, rattling Lucifer in the process.

“Touch him again, my dear, and I will make you wish that you never fell.”

Lucifer laughed, though strained against the pressure around his throat, as if teetering like this was a grand joke worthy of all the humor in hell. His grin never faltered as he laughed in the face of Alastor's threatening imposition. Angel sat stock still on his chair, eyes as wide as every other patron's in the venue. Things were escalating so quickly he could scarcely think what to do. 

Lucifer let Alastor's maliciousness run it's course and waited, leaving silence hanging between them for a long stretch. 

"You forget," he said at length, his voice toughened by Alastor's grasp, "your place… sinner. I am not some demon… I'm an archangel. And this domain is mine because I wield a power no one else does."

His fingers became claws, and his eyes became crazed as he gleefully reeled back to sink into Alastor and end him on the spot, stopping just short and tearing a hole in his sweater instead, dangerously close to Alastor's skin. 

"Don't! Lucifer please!" 

Angel's voice cut through the hushed tension like a knife. Razor sharp and sudden, it caught the King's attention. He laughed again and raised a challenging brow. 

"What is it, Anthony? Daddy's busy."

"I'll do whatever ya want please just don't hurt him! Okay? I'm the one who betrayed ya trust. I told him ya were askin' about him. I put Val and Vox at each otha's throats for him! I'm the one makin' a mess so please just… Just don't."

Angel was desperately trying to pull this back from the brink, spare Alastor any harm. He couldn't sit idly by and let him suffer at the hands of the King. 

"Yesss… you are quite the little mastermind, aren't you… Tell you what. Let's make a  _ deal, _ shall we? You come with me, agree to be my consort, and no harm will befall Alastor," Lucifer said. Angel felt cold dread running through him. This would break Alastor's heart. This would destroy everything. This would be a betrayal and it may be the only thing that got them both out of this alive. 

Angel remembered Alastor's word of warning when it came to deals. Be specific. 

"No one, not you, not your minions, not a single sinner in hell now or who comes here in the future will ever hurt him… he won't be hurt in any way, or killed, and I come with you to be your consort," Angel specified. Lucifer was beaming. Angel shot Alastor a look of apology and forced a smile, sad and strained. He tried to communicate something with his eyes but he wasn't sure the message would be received. 

"I'm sorry, Al. But I can't watch you go toe to toe with Lucifer and die. My heart can't take it."

"Your words are very specific, Anthony… but I can agree to your terms. Shall we shake on it?" 

The blow that he had prepared himself for never came. Alastor was still wearing his wince when Angel’s voice cracked through their vicious back and forth. His attention flitted from Lucifer’s gnarled visage to the very tips of long threatening claws and back down to Angel’s face that was twisted with a mix of concern and desperation.

His ears twitched at the mention of it, the word pulling him out of any train of thought that might have been running rampant through his head at the time. Lucifer was playing a familiar card, the one that Alastor had come to know the most intimately. Alastor’s grasp on Lucifer’s throat loosened and he backed off, listening to the long list of specifics Angel laid out in order to buy them back a semblance of their former lives. Alastor’s eyes widened, he wasn’t just buying himself a cage, but an eternity of invincibility for the Radio Demon. It was more than anything Alastor had ever come to want, before he had ever gone down this previously untraveled road with Angel, but now he didn’t want it— not when he was going to be forced to have it  _ alone _ .

Alastor cracked, scurrying to his knees in front of Angel who was still perched in his seat. He had known that tonight was going to be their last as Lucifer took the stage, but he would have never imagined it would have ended like this. The heart that had only just come to life ached with dread in his chest. He cradled Angel’s face in his hands and shook his head, desperate to express that he didn’t have to do this.

If it was the end of him, it would have been alright in his mind— he had gotten to enjoy so many beautiful and wonderful things that had made his heart sing for the first time in forever,  _ all _ because of Angel. There wouldn’t have been any remorse. To finally have the ability to feel so deeply had brought him to life and now that the threat of removing his reason to do so loomed over his head, Alastor was reserved into acceptance that his own audacity should have ended him, perhaps for both of their sakes. He was willing to take the blame if it meant saving Angel, but he had stripped that very notion out of his hands all with the mention of a simple  _ deal _ .

“ _ A-angel _ ,” he stuttered, pawing nervously with a thumb at the crest of his cheek bone. “You don’t have to do this, Angel—  _ Angel _ ,  _ please _ ,” the Radio Demon begged, humbled on his knees in front of Lucifer and every other sinner sitting in the room, most of all, the Spider who had solely secured the key to his sealed heart.

Even though the Radio Demon would never come to know harm, he was still going to be ravaged by this.

It would be unfortunate for every denizen of Hell that he should survive it.

Lucifer's glee fell to the background as Alastor begged. Angel ached to soothe that pain he knew the Radio Demon was feeling. This was a terrible predicament. It was beautiful agony. It was going to be the end of a chapter, but Angel had already made his mind up. He laid a hand over Alastor's and nuzzled into his palm, tears slipping down his cheeks and he stole one last moment. For now. 

"Al, you gotta let me do this… I love you an'... Just trust me," he whispered. He slipped out of Alastor's hands and into his arms, embracing him. He pressed a kiss to his cheek and whispered again. 

"Thank you for everythin' you gave me an' taught me… An' for lovin' me. See you on the other side."

Lucifer cleared his throat and extended his hand. Angel slowly, reluctantly, painfully withdrew from Alastor's embrace. Angel only hoped that someday Alastor would understand the choice Angel was making. He extended his hand in turn. 

"Lucifer… It's a deal."

Their palms met in a firm shake and green light bathed the room, washing everything out in its blaze. A high pitched whine shattered every bottle and glass and then slowly the light faded and the seats once occupied by Lucifer and Angel were empty. 

Alastor was alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!


End file.
